Hide and Seek
by Spookykat
Summary: Sebastian promised the Warblers that if they made him Captain, he'd get them to Nationals.  Unfortunately for Kurt, Sebastian intends to keep that promise.
1. Chapter 1

**Title is taken from the Imogen Heap song of the same name. Also, I promise this one has a happy ending...eventually. Mwahahaha!**

**Original title was 'In Which Sebastian is an Evil, Psychotic Butt-munch,' but I felt that was a little on the long side.**

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><p><em><strong>Hide and Seek<strong>_

_Where are we? What the hell is going on?  
>The dust has only just begun to fall,<br>Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.  
>Spin me round again and rub my eyes.<br>This can't be happening._

Sebastian Smythe hated waiting.

He'd been doing a lot of that lately.

And it wasn't something to which he was accustomed.

Waiting for _Gossip Girl_ to come back had been hard (Chuck Bass, after all, was his role model). He'd waited for just the right moment to take over the Warblers, and though it'd been harder still, that had paid off swimmingly. Waiting for one Blaine Anderson to wake up and get bored of that…girly-boy he dated, though? Not so much.

But that was going to change.

The waiting was about to pay off.

It wasn't that Sebastian was in love with the guy, but Blaine Anderson was quite the arm-candy, and he'd promised the Warblers if they let him do away with the Council and take over as Captain, he'd be their ticket to Nationals.

Distracting the lead singers of their biggest competition with the tragic loss of their favorite gay would give the Warblers a definite edge, and word on the street was Vocal Adrenaline wasn't exactly a threat this season. Although they'd placed enough to compete at Regionals, the team had had issues finding its footing and rumor was that they had a new lead singer who seemed to be confused about whether or not he was a Soprano or a Tenor.

"Gentlemen," Sebastian greeted. "I've called this meeting because I've been told you were the best."

"What the hell, Norm? He's just a kid." One of the guys said when they spotted him.

"Who the fuck cares?" Norm replied. "If he's got the dough, it don't matter."

"So I trust that the terms we agreed to still apply?" Sebastian said, choosing to ignore the remarks.

"This is not some fucking scene out of a damn movie kid," Louie barked. "You got the cash?"

Sebastian just grinned and handed them both envelopes.

"I trust you'll find everything there."

They counted it.

"It wasn't easy getting the money, but I assume, gentlemen, that I'll get what I paid for?"

"For cryin' out loud," Norm said. "Just tell us what you want us to do."

"This kid," Sebastian said, showing them the photograph from Kurt's profile picture on his Facebook page. "I want him taken care of."

"By taken care of, you mean..."

"In the _Fargo_ sense of the word," Sebastian answered.

"He cheated on you or some shit like that?" Louie asked.

Sebastian chuckled. "No, nothing like that. This is for a far worthier cause. You see, I promised my a capella group that I'd get us to Nationals. Eliminating him will go a long way towards accomplishing that."

There was silence for a beat, then Louie and Norm laughed loud and long.

"Let me get this straight," Norm said, catching his breath. "You want us to take care of him for you for a singing competition? That's the funniest shit I've ever heard!"

"I don't get it kid," Louie said chuckling. "I've been in this business for a long damn time. I've had guys want to off people for money, for love, for revenge. Hell, I've gotten jobs 'cause somebody hates someone else's guts. And you want me to do _what_ exactly? For a fucking singing competition?"

"Gentlemen, yours is not to reason why. Yours is to do the damn job. So." He leaned forward. "Do we have a deal?"

Norm and Louie spent a few minutes counting out the crisp bills in the envelope.

"Deal," Norm said. "When do you want it done?"

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><p>Kurt opened his eyes, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he had.<p>

His whole head felt huge, and he panicked, trying to remember how he got here.

He tried to rub is eyes, but found he couldn't because his hands were bound above his head by rope. Whatever was beneath him was soft, and it squeaked…like a mattress. The coat he had on when he left Blaine's was gone, and his shoes. He bemoaned the loss of his doc martens, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like how he got here.

He remembered leaving Blaine's house in a blind fury.

It had been an awful fight.

"_I would think after Sleazy McChipmunkface put you in the hospital, you'd be less inclined to talk to him. And you lied to me to hang out with them tonight why, exactly?"_

"_It wasn't a lie…I just…forgot to tell you."_

_Kurt glared. "Sebastian made it crystal clear that the Warblers aren't the way they were when we left. They don't even have a council anymore. We can't trust them anymore. And you…you can't just…be so nice to everyone all the time!" _

"_I told you. Sebastian is nothing to me. We're not even hanging out! It was just Nick, Jeff and Trent. David quit when he realized that Sebastian had completely taken over things, and most of the guys we knew have graduated."_

"_Might I remind you that those guys you call friends didn't lift a damn finger to help when you were injured? And you lied to me to hang out with them tonight why, exactly?"_

"_They're my friends! Trent explained they had no idea there was rock salt in the slushy, and they apologized for it and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was hanging out with them, but I wasn't aware that I needed your permission!"_

"_You don't need my permission, but I really don't appreciate being lied to. I want to be able to trust you when I'm in New York, and…"_

"_Wait…since when is this about you trusting me?"_

"_Because lying is SO conducive to a healthy relationship," Kurt snapped back._

"_So you're telling me you don't trust me? Seriously?"_

"_I'm sorry. I do trust you, Blaine. It's not you I'm worried about. But Sebastian? He's just not going to stop. He just wants you for another notch on his bedpost, and he's not the kind of guy who takes 'no' for an answer. But…" he shook his head. "Forget it. Clearly, you're just going to do what you want and not care about the consequences."_

"_Kurt, why are you acting like this? Would you listen to yourself? Aren't you being just a little irrational?"_

"_Irrational?" Kurt echoed incredulously. "You know what?" he said tersely, gathering his coat and bag. "I'll just go. I'll see you on Monday."_

_Blaine had protested, but Kurt ignored him, and the front door shut with a satisfactory slam. He pulled out of the driveway with the last vestiges of winter nipping at his skin and hot tears spilling down his cheeks. _

_He kept running through the fight in his head, wishing he could've just dropped the matter and pretended like he was okay with it, but the more he did that, the angrier he got, and the worst part of it was, he knew why Blaine had felt it necessary to lie. Blaine knew this would be the reaction, and Kurt never wanted to be That Boyfriend. He wanted Blaine to hang out with whomever he wanted to hang out with, even if they did prove to be sleazy or less than loyal. _

_He would apologize when he got home. He would send a text as soon as he pulled into the driveway, and hopefully by Monday at Glee, things would be back to normal. _

_The two-lane highway was almost deserted, and he was so lost in thought that he barely registered the lights from a car behind him. The driver must've forgotten to switch off the brights. It wouldn't be the first time it'd happened to him on this road, and he knew it wouldn't be the last, so he switched lanes, but the car only followed suit. He changed lanes again, but this time the car was close…right on his bumper._

"_What an asshole!" Kurt swore. It wasn't something he usually did unless it was the most appropriate word-choice, and as the other driver grew closer and closer and the bright lights began to make driving a challenge, he wished for a name that was a bit stronger._

'_What the hell?" Kurt pressed his foot on the gas and sped into the next lane, but then then there was the sound of metal against metal as the other driver struck his car again. _

_Kurt felt the Navigator losing control and screamed as he realized he was careening towards a patch of trees._

That was the last thing Kurt remembered, and now…

Whatever was beneath him was soft, and it squeaked…like a mattress. The coat he had on when he left Blaine's was gone, but he still had the shirt and pants that he put on this morning.

His shoulder throbbed and it hurt to breathe.

He screamed for help, but it was very clear that wherever he was, for the time being, he was alone.

Leaving him to panic alone in the blackness.

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><p><strong>AN: The muse has been on an extended vacation lately and he might need a little coaxing. Te gusta? Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I may or may not have been watching _X-Files _reruns while writing this chapter.**

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><p>Two years ago, if anyone had looked into a crystal ball and told Carole that she'd be married to a Congressman with two sons, she would've demanded her money back and told the person they were crazy.<p>

But here she was, and she couldn't be happier.

Most of the time.

The whole family had spent New Year's Eve in Washington, D.C. and Burt was sworn in as member of Congress for the 113th session, and it had been amazing being there with the fireworks and her family, and they even got to shake the president's hand. Carole made the mistake of telling him she didn't vote for him, but he'd just smiled and said: "So did about half the country, ma'am. But hopefully you won't be too disappointed in my job performance in the future." Carole had giggled and blushed like a school-girl, but coming home to a house without her husband had been hard to get used to.

Harder to get used to still were the frequent nights that Finn and Kurt were both out with their respective significant others. They had curfews, sure, but this was Saturday night and Carole knew Kurt would be staying at Blaine's (though she'd have to be water-boarded before she told Burt that), and she was fairly certain that Finn was at Rachel's for the evening. She was glad to know that her boys happy and so proud of Burt she could pop, but Burt coming home every month or so for a weekend while Congress was in session just wasn't enough.

And to top it all, it had been an excruciating twelve-hour shift at the hospital. She was only supposed to stay until 11pm, but it was 12:30 before she was able to go home. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was soak in a hot bath and sleep for a year.

She poured herself a glass of red wine and was just about to turn on the television to watch C-Span. Watching grass growing was on the same level of entertainment, but watching politicians drone on and on made her feel closer to her huband, even if they were showing only Senate proceedings that day. She was about to warm up some leftovers for a quick bite to eat when the doorbell rang.

Her heart plummeted to her feat when she saw a dark-haired woman dressed in a black business suit accompanied by a tall, lanky man also wearing a plain black suit with frizzy, rust-colored hair. He pushed his thick-framed glasses up his nose while the woman introduced herself. "Excuse me, is this the residence of Burt Hummel?" the woman began.

"Yes, he's my husband." Carole said, bracing herself.

"I'm Detective Delia Lebowski," she said, flashing her Detective badge as proof. "This is my partner John Gillnitz. We're with the local police department. We're here because…"

"It's not another heart attack is it? Please tell me it's not another heart attack! His son's out for the evening, and…I don't want him driving if he…"

"Ma'am, we're not here your husband has not had a heart attack," the woman answered, laying a hand on her shoulder in an effort to calm her down, and Carole sighed in relief. "However, we did find the wreckage of an abandoned vehicle registered in his name on Highway 81 Eastbound. Does your husband own a 2010 Lincoln Navigator?"

Carole gasped. "Oh no. Oh dear God…that's…" she started to scramble for her phone. "Yes, the car is registered to Burt, but Kurt, our…his son…primarily drives it. Kurt's okay, isn't he?"

The detectives exchanged questioning looks.

"We were able to tow the vehicle from the scene," the man answered, "but we were unable to locate anyone at the scene. Do you have a recent picture of Kurt that we can pass around? Maybe show the press if issuing an Amber Alert becomes necessary? A school photograph perhaps?"

Carole choked back sobs and nodded, going to the mantel above the fireplace, and Lebowski followed her.

"Wait a second," Detective Lebowski breathed when she glanced at the picture. "I know that guy," she said, pointing to a picture taken of the whole family at the wedding. "John, come here," she said, pointing to the photograph.

"Is that who I think it is?" she asked, taking the picture off the shelf.

"Oh my GOD those commercials were so lame," Gilnitz said with a chuckle. Lebowski smacked him on the arm.

Carole just sighed and was about to say something when Finn came through the back door.

"Mom?" Finn asked, looking from Carole back to the detectives and then back to her. "What's going on?"

* * *

><p>Linus Dutton had no idea what to expect when he was hired as an intern for Ohio's newest Congressman. He wasn't a man who made friends with his words, and although he was polite, Linus got the distinct impression that Burt Hummel was not someone you messed with.<p>

Six weeks in, though, Linus was finding out that Congressman Hummel wasn't such a bad guy. His family called every day, and his son (who'd given Linus a list with explicit instructions regarding food that he was supposed to avoid) usually called more than once. He was one of the few who actually did seem to want to make the world a better place. His taste in music was questionable if his Pandora station of choice was anything to go by, but nobody was perfect.

He'd seen Burt storm into the office after a session of Congress before and slam the door before. He'd heard him yell through the phone, but this particular morning, there was none of that.

"Linus, my office. Now." Burt had barked, and Linus grabbed a pen and legal pad and followed.

"Linus, I want you to tell whoever it is that needs to know that I have to go home today."

"For a day or so?"

"I don't know…"

"But, sir, the constitution states that…"

"I don't care what the damn rules are. My son is _missing_ and that's a helluva lot more important to me than any damn piece of paper."

"Your son's what?" Linus asked. If there was one thing he'd learned in his six weeks under his new boss, it was how much the man loved his kid.

"They found his car last night," he said. "It was wrecked, but he was nowhere to be found."

"Oh man…" Linus breathed. "That's…I'm so sorry. But if you need to be gone for more than a day or two, there's protocol…"

"I have to get on the next flight to Columbus."

"You don't understand, the consequences established by our Nation's founding fathers…"

"I don't think _you_ understand. My kid comes first. He's ALWAYS come first. Only now, it's not just him I've got to think about. Now, I've got a wife back home who, knowin' her, is cryin' her eyes out the moment she doesn't think anyone's watching, and a stepson who's ready to tear the town apart lookin' for him. You're tellin' me I can't go home to my family who needs me right now because some old farts in wigs two hundred years ago said I can't? That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard."

"Put in a request by the end of business today and the House and Congress can vote on it by the end of business tomorrow, and you can take the next flight out to Columbus. I don't believe they've ever denied anyone a leave in recent history."


	3. Chapter 3

It was little after nine when Kurt stormed out. Blaine started to call him before he knew his boyfriend had time to get home so he could explain himself better, but Blaine knew that the fight happened not because Kurt was actually suspicious of him, even if he had reason to be. Really, the fight happened because Kurt was worried about a future that was no longer an abstract, distant thing. It was right around the corner, and if Blaine were being honest with himself, he was terrified of it too.

Things were going to change so fast. They already _were_ changing. The Warblers were different. Rachel and Finn were _engaged_, and before he knew it, Kurt would be in New York. Although he was as sure of Kurt as he was of anything in this world, he couldn't blame his boyfriend for being nervous about it.

But that left him alone on a Friday night.

So there was nothing left for him to do but see who was online.

Wes was busy with Harvard things and not on Skype, and David was out of town with his parents that weekend. Calling anyone from New Directions was out of the question, because that would've meant rehashing the fight, and he just wanted to forget.

The only thing to left, then, was kill things in videogames. That lost its appeal after an hour, so he wound up pulling out his _Firefly _disks, because Kurt hated the series and although he didn't mind putting off watching it until Kurt wasn't around, he couldn't resist. In times like these, Joss Whedon was just necessary.

The thing was, he knew Kurt was sounding crazy, but he also knew he was sort of right. Of course he wanted Kurt to trust him. Of course the Warblers couldn't be trusted anymore (even if they were just Jeff, Trent and Nick) and he deserved Worst Boyfriend of the Year Award for lying by omission.

He and Kurt had had fights before. The worst part was that it was never about stupid stuff the way Finn and Rachel fought. It was always about the really big stuff, like whether or not Blaine should be able to explore bisexuality, or when they should have sex. It was always the kind of thing that made them need to separate for a few days before they could talk about whatever problems arose in a rational way, and he hated that. He hated the distance.

Even if it did lead to great make-up sex, he hated the distance it took to get that even more.

More than that, he hated the thought that he'd disappointed Kurt, that he'd let his boyfriend down somehow.

He didn't know what time he finally fell asleep, but he didn't even check the user ID when his phone buzzed at his nightstand.

"Blaine, hey dude…"

His sleep-fogged brain took a minute to recognize the voice, so he glanced a the caller ID and wondered if he was still dreaming, because while he and Finn had reached an understanding months ago, Finn still didn't really call just to shoot the breeze. "Sorry, I know it's late, and I'm sure you and Kurt are…nevermind. I reeeeeally don't wanna know what I interrupted. Can you just put him on the phone for me?"

"Kurt's not here, Finn," Blaine said, rubbing his eyes. "We, um, kind of had a fight. He left around nine or so."

"Ohhhhh shit," Finn swore. "Um, I don't know how to say this, dude, so I'm just gonna say it. There are a couple of cops here. They say Kurt's car was wrecked and left on the side of the road, and if he's not with you…we don't know where he is."

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><p>"We got him," Norm (or was it Lou? He didn't know the men well enough to distinguish their voices yet, and he really didn't care) informed him. "We can dump the body in the river yet if you want, or…"<p>

"No, gentlemen," Sebastian answered. "I'm afraid I wasn't clear."

"You said like _Fargo_. I thought that meant, you know, stuff him in a wood-chipper," Norm (or Lou) responded.

"I mean, if you've already done it, I does suppose that still accomplishes my goal, but, I'd rather you not. I don't want things to get messy."

"Oh no," Norm (or Lou) answered. "he's still with us. What do you want us to do with him?

"My Aunt Minnie is a snowbird. She'll be in Florida for the rest of the winter, by which time I think this little venture will have served its purpose. The house is just outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana about an hour an a half away from here. I'm texting you the address and Google Map directions right now."

"Just so we're clear, you don't want us to waste him?"

"Not at all. I just want him out of the way."

"Kid, has anyone ever told you that you are one sick fuck?"

"I take it as a compliment."

More than enough time had passed for Kurt's eyes to adjust to the dark, but there was no incoming light to negate the blackness. He had no clue where he was. He had no clue how he got there. He heard footsteps above him (two sets, he realized) and two male muffled voices.

He screamed again, as loud and as high and as long as he could.

"Oh for fuck's sake shout the hell up!" a man's voice said banging on the door. "It's the middle of freakin' nowhere. Nobody's gonna here you but the birds, kid."

Then he heard the sound of a doorbell ringing, and screamed again with every ounce of strength he had left.

Finally, the door opened.

"Let me out of here!" Kurt screamed, but it came out raspier than he would've liked.

"Not yet," a familiar voice answered. Kurt couldn't say he was exactly surprised to see Sebastian's form standing in the doorway once his eyes adjusted to the light Sebastian had flicked on. He held up a bottle of water and a peanut butter sandwich on white bread. "Time for you to eat up. Can't have you getting dehydrated."

"Fuck. Off." Kurt demanded.

"I know you're probably restricting your carbs to stave off the baby-fat, and can't say as I blame you there, Jack McFarlane, but the little grocery store out here only had one kind of bread."

"I know your dad's the ADA. Mine's a Congressman. No way is that going to stay out of the press for long. They're going to find me. You're going to get caught. Simple as that. And if you don't let me go," he said kicking Sebastian in the groin with all of his might as soon as he was close enough to reach with his foot, "you're going to spend the rest of your life behind bars in a six by eight jail cell."

"What do you know," Sebastian wheezed. "The little princess is quite the hellcat."

"You're not getting away with—" Kurt started to scream, but was cut off by his captor shoving half of a peanut butter sandwich in his mouth at once.

"You are making this much harder on yourself by fighting," Sebastian said, pouring the entire contents of the bottle of water over his head. "You're not free to come and go for obvious reasons, and you will be harmed if you try to escape, but I have no intention of killing you. But by the time I'm done, my friend, I'm fairly certain that you're going to wish I had."


	4. Chapter 4

Finn sent out texts to the remaining guys of New Directions, and within fifteen minutes, they were all pulling into the driveway.

"Boss says he's got a task force ready to go, John," Lebowski said, hanging up her cell phone and putting it in her pocket. "Ma'am, is it okay if we take this picture with us?" she asked, holding up Kurt's photograph from Sophomore year that had bene removed from its frame.

Carole nodded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Detective Gilnitz demanded when he saw the cars pulling into the driveway.

"Friends of mine and Kurt's. I thought they could help," he said as the doorbell rang.

Mike wheeled Artie in. "I brought provisions," Artie announced, holding up a couple of bottles of soda and some Doritos. "And also my laptop." He glanced at the two strangers in the room.

"They're detectives," Finn said, answering the unasked question. "So ix-nay on the acking-hay, dude."

"Finn, I'm pretty sure they speak Pig Latin," Artie said, nodding his head towards the strangers, "and just so you know, cross my heart, I've paid for every single one of the mp3s on my playlist and I never ever ever hack. Because that would be illegal. And please dear God don't arrest me, I'd be someone's prison bitch in exactly zero point three seconds, and…"

Lebowski and Gilnitz exchanged half-amused, half-puzzled glances. "Relax kid," Detective Lebowski said. "We've got bigger fish to fry today. And your friends are here, why, exactly?"

Before anyone could answer, the doorbell rang again.

"Got here as soon as I could," Blaine said when Finn let him in.

"Dude, I really don't think you should be here."

"Finn, he's my boyfriend. You can't give me a call like that and then text me saying we're forming a search party and expect me to just sit on my thumbs!"

"Imayhavetextedhimbyaccident," Finn mumbled.

"Finn!" Carole admonished.

"Dude, it's a search party," Puck pointed out, who'd gotten there before everyone else. "We could use all the man-power we can get. "Besides, Blaine totally took that slushy for Kurt during the Michael stand-off." Puck clapped Blaine on the shoulder. "You may be a petunia, dude, but you're a bad-ass petunia in my book."

"Thanks?" Blaine replied weakly.

"I just don't want you seeing something you might not be able to handle," Finn said. "If it's bad…I'm just saying…I don't know how I'd react if it were Rachel."

"So you think I can't handle it because he's my boyfriend?" Blaine objected. "He's your brother!"

"Wait a second, search party?" Detective Lebowski interrupted, shaking her head and rubbing her temples with her fingertips. "Look, I appreciate that you want to find your friend, but let us do our jobs. We can't have you guys messing up a potential crime scene. You boys play Halo or whatever the hell it is you play on computers these days and hang tight."

"You can't do that! He could be out there anywhere and we can't just sit here and…and…" The rest of the boys began to protest.

Lebowski put a hand up when Gilnitz's phone buzzed. Gilnitz mumbled something in the phone, then turned to her. "Boss says the task force is on its way to the site, so it's time to make like a tree."

Lebowski rolled her eyes. "Forgive him, he just watched 'Back to the Future.' Kids, I know you all want to help, but the best thing you can do is just sit tight. If you need anything, or can think of anything that might help with the case, don't hesitate to call. We'll give you updates as soon as we have more information. And I promise you," she said, making her way to the door, "my partner and I are good at our jobs. We're going to do everything we can to find him."

As soon as they were gone, Carole left the room to call Burt, and Artie turned to Finn. "Bring me his laptop. Blaine, you know his password, right? It'd be helpful for hacking purposes."

"Isn't that, um, illegal?" Mike asked.

"You say illegal, I say 'highly useful information.' Besides, it'll probably be the second thing they do anyway if, you know…it's…not good."

"Artie, no!" Blaine objected. "It's you know, his email and stuff. It's private! If he finds out we saw something we shouldn't have…"

"Look, Man," Finn said, "I don't like looking at this stuff without his permission any more than you do. I had to go in his room last month, and he found out and replaced my _Playboy_ stash with issues of _Martha Stewart's Living_. But dude, can you sit here and seriously tell me you'd care it would piss him off if it meant we found him?"

"If it helps, I'll just tell you if there's anything relevant," Artie said.

"Fine," Blaine finally relented.

"Okay, Blaine, you are very lucky," Artie said, scrolling down. "Kurt does not have any secret internet boyfriends in Canada he's hiding away, or anywhere else. Although he is a member of some…interesting mailing lists: Good Lawd…Artie shook his head. ". Bowtie Addicts and the People Who Love Them. The Taylor Lautner RPF Fan-Fiction Listing…"

"Artie, this is relevant, how exactly?" Finn interjected.

"Uh oh," Artie said, click on an email. "Dear Sinner: in a very impassioned speech today, your father spoke of what it means to live good American Christian values. He preached about making the world a better place for our children. We were right there with him. And then he started talking about his out-and-proud homosexual son like it was a good thing. You may have fooled your father, but you have not fooled me. You and your kind are ruining our society. You are RUINING our children, and you just go on about your business ruining the sanctity of marriage despite everything that The Good Book says about your lifestyle. If it were up to me and my people and the rest of those who sat on the right hand of God in this country, there'd be a lot less of your kind in this world.

WATCH YOUR STEP, FAGGOT. YOUR NEXT COULD TAKE YOU A LONG WAY DOWN. Signed….NAME."

"Name? What the hell does that mean?" Puck asked no one in particular.

"National Association of Marriage Enhancement," Blaine supplied. "My dad used to show me their brochures," he added by way of explanation.

"So…this is a hate crime, then?" Rory asked, speaking up for the first time.

"You don't have those back home?" Sam asked.

"Oh no, we do," Rory said with a sigh. "It's just never happened to anyone I've known before. How can anyone hate Kurt?"

"He's been the target of this kind of thing before," Blaine said, more to Rory than anyone else. Blaine paled. "Karofsky…he could've…I mean, Kurt said he's turned around, but…"

Like a shot, Puck stood. "Blaine, dude, come on, I'm taking you home."

"Thanks, but..." Blaine started to ask

"Not asking," Puck said, tossing Blaine's jacket at him. "Come on, Short-stuff, you're riding with."

"So…" Blaine asked as they pulled out of the driveway. "I appreciate you taking me home and all, but you do realize that my car's still there and I haven't had a drop since Scandals 'cause Kurt won't let me, and…"

"Dude, I don't drink anymore since Beth, and I don't even really do illegal shit anymore 'cause I'm trying to keep my visitation rights. Besides, we're not going to your house."

Blaine squirmed in his seat. "Then…where are we going?"

Puck turned on a switch Blaine hadn't even really noticed before and a man's voice squawked out: "…Yo, Bulldogs, we've gotta back'em up out by Highway 81 West-Bound. There's some City Kitty's sittin' pretty and we've gotta be on our best behavior. Over and out."

Puck switched off the radio and the tires screeched as the pulled a U-Turn.

Blaine prayed to anyone who would listen and hung on for dear life, wondering what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.

"I don't know about you, but I am not going to wait around until they find time to tell us," Puck informed him.

Blaine swallowed. "Um…that still doesn't answer my question."

"That was a CB Radio," Puck explained. "That dude just told me that I need to slow down on Highway 81, because there's a bunch of cops up the road. Now, how much you wanna bet that those are the same dudes lookin' for Kurt?"

"You sure this is…"

It was like Puck wasn't even listening. "Knowing where the cops are…that's the kinda thing you want to know when you do the kinda stuff I used to do. I'm kinda outta practice with the whole 'breaking the law' thing, and I haven't had to turn it on in awhile, but the trucker just said that there were cops out on that same highway that detective dude said they were heading to." He waggled his eyebrows. "In a town like this? This hour of the night? What else can it be?"

"But they told us not to!"

"If someone tells The Puckzilla where he can't go, that's pretty much an open invitation. Seriously, dude. We're going to that crime scene. Now, how's about finding us some tunes?"

Blaine wanted to ask a million questions.

The main one being: why the hell was he even here?

Puck never really showed much of an interest in Kurt or his well-being before now as far as Blaine knew, so why all of a sudden was he this invested in finding him? Puck might've had his problems with Finn in the past, but Finn and Puck were on good terms now, and they were closer, so why wasn't he included on this little adventure? And what the hell did Puck exactly hope to accomplish on this little expedition? It wasn't like the cops weren't just going to welcome them to the party.

But Blaine chose not to ask any of them and opted instead to just watch the reflective strips on the highway whiz by.

"You really think Karofsky's behind this?" Puck asked after a long while.

"I don't know," Blaine said, laying his head against the cool glass of the window pane. "Kurt hasn't mentioned him in awhile. I think he's left Kurt alone. We don't even know for sure if it's been an abduction or if he hit his head somewhere and..." Blaine stopped himself short when he saw the blinking blue lights a couple of miles up the road.

"I know people can change," Puck said. "I'm proof enough of that. I mean, we all picked on Kurt before Glee, but there was something about the way Karofsky just…wouldn't let up on Kurt, you know?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, wondering where this was all going. "He told me." Blaine paused for a beat. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but…why'd you bring me? Why not Finn?"

Puck shrugged. "You looked like you could use a little distraction."

Blaine had to run-walk to keep up with Puck. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Blaine could almost hear Puck grinning in the darkness. "Dude, when has that _ever_ stopped me before?"


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine felt his stomach churn when a cop shined a light in his face.

They were going to tell them to go away. Possibly arrest them for invading a crime scene. And then his dad would have to come bail him out of jail, and ask why he was friends with the likes of Puck now and force him to quit New Directions, then he'd be even more disappointed in Blaine than he already was (if that was even possible) and this was such a horrible no-good very-bad idea, and there was absolutely no way out of this, and what the hell was he even doing here?

"We should just…go back," Blaine said.

If Puck had heard anything Blaine had said, he didn't show it. Instead, he just waved at one of the officers. "Yo, Vince!"

"What's up, Puckerman?" Vince yelled back. "How's that baby girl of yours?"

Puck glanced back at Blaine and nodded as if to say 'See, what did I tell you?' and dug in his back pocket and showed off what Blaine was certain had to be the latest picture of his daughter. It was surreal to Blaine—Puck rarely talked about the little girl, and Blaine only heard about his drama with Quinn and Finn through Kurt. It was such a disconnect from the same guy who bragged about getting with whole sororities, to the point where it was beginning to feel like his companion was being possessed by some other person.

But, if all the weirdness brought him a step closer to Kurt, he wouldn't complain. Not one bit. For now, he was willing to take whatever gifts the universe had to give.

"What the hell is going on here, man?" Puck asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Jesus H. Christ, it's a mess! So we get a call in from a trucker saying some car was damaged on the side of the road, right?"

Puck and Blaine both nodded.

"Only…turns out, it's that Congressman's kid, you know…the queer? Only, now the guys are sayin' it wasn't just a kid bein' drunk or stupid. He was run off the road."

Blaine's stomach clenched at the derogatory term, but "So the kid, any idea what happened to him?" Blaine got up the courage to ask.

The officer shrugged. "Heard 'em say they found foot tracks like he'd been dragged out of the vehicle and then a second set of tire tracks. Looks like whoever drove him off the side of the road took off with him."

Blaine fought the panic that was rising up in his chest.

"So any chance we can go poke around up there?" Puck asked, nodding his head towards where the cops were gathered.

"No can do, bud. You're not even supposed to have gotten this far," Vince said.

"Listen, any chance we could, you know, sneak past and take a look around?"

"I'm afraid that's a negatory, Puckerman. They're not lettin' folks through just yet."

"Yo Vince!" One of the cops yelled in another vehicle, "take a look at this!"

"You boys hang tight," Vince said, but as soon as his back was turned, Puck was making his way to the wreckage of the car and Blaine could do nothing but follow.

* * *

><p>Blaine kept thinking he was going to get caught, but the thing was, nobody noticed.<p>

People collected things and put it in bags, just like a scene out of one of those cop shows, but none of them seemed to notice two boys who didn't belong. He made his way closer to where most of the cops had gathered, and that's when he saw the car.

_'This isn't so bad,'_ Blaine thought as he approached, and it gave him the first hope he had since the fight. There wasn't any smoke or anything messed up on the passenger side, and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was short-lived, however.

"Check it out," Puck said, nodding towards the front of the car. Blaine made his way around to the driver's side and that's when he wanted to throw up. The driver's side was smashed in to the point where Blaine was pretty sure he couldn't even find the door-handle anymore, and he wanted to pass out when he saw dried blood smeared on the now-deflated and deployed airbag and windshield.

_Kurt's_ blood.

He'd been hurt, and pretty seriously at that.

There was no way he could just be wandering around somewhere with amnesia. Nobody walked away from a scene like this. Somebody ran Kurt off the road. They'd meant to hurt him. They wanted him to be incapacitated so they could drag him off, cave-man-style to god-knows-where for god-knows-what purposes, and if Blaine spent any more time dwelling on worst-case scenarios, he was going to either go into a blinding rage or a catatonic breakdown involving the fetal position, whichever came first.

Trying not to look at the steering-wheel, he let his gaze wander over to the passenger's side. Blaine couldn't even count how many times he himself had occupied that seat, and after that first kiss, how many times they'd made out…and after they granted their hands Visas south of the boarder, how many times…

Oh _fuck_. The condoms.

They would see the condoms, and then the torn packages of condoms, which ohmygodthatwouldbesomuchworse, and once they found them, they'd have to tell Burt, and even though Burt reassured him a million times over that he thought he was a good kid and trusted him with his son, Blaine was sure that would change once he knew.

He couldn't let that happen.

He was eighty-percent certain that Burt Hummel didn't actually posses a flame-thrower, but there was no way he was going to do anything that would test that theory, and besides, there were other weapons Burt could wield that Blaine was pretty sure would be worse. Nobody was watching him. He was pretty confident that if he just reached in there and pocketed them, nobody would be able to tell.

Problem was, the glove-box wouldn't shut properly. It fought with him to close until Blaine won the battle with one final slam, and that's when one of the investigators wearig a CSI jacket whipped his head around and shown a flashlight in his face.

"Hey!" he barked. "What the hell are you doing here? Officer Kimble, we've got a situation!" Puck just glared at him and Blaine shrugged. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I'm just…I had to get something out of my boyfriend's car." The CSI and the officer exchanged glances. "You know you're not supposed to be out here, right?" The CSI officer asked.

"Look, man, it was me, okay?" Puck tried to say, but the officer wasn't having it.

"I don't think so," the officer said, studying Blaine for a minute. "What's your name, kid?"

"We'll just…go," Blaine said.

"Not so fast. Mind if I ask what a couple of kids are doing on a highway in the middle of the night?"

"This is my boyfriend's car," Blaine said. "I just…I needed to know what happened."

"You know what I found on your boyfriend's iphone?" Blaine's stomach clenched and he shook his head. "I found a text to a friend of his that indicated you guys weren't exactly…hunky-dory." he studied the driver's license.

"Blaine?" Blaine nodded.

"Yeah, we had a fight, but…" Blaine couldn't believe this was happening. He was so fucked. So unbelievably fucked now and there was no getting out of it.

"Well, Blaine," the officer sneered. "I've got guys combing this car for DNA, and I'm pretty sure yours is going to be all over it. Now, you could make this easy on yourself and tell me what happened, or you could make this fun for me and make me guess."

And then suddenly hands were down his pockets in a way that made him feel a little more invaded than he would've liked, and the condom packets were dangled in front of him.

Another officer was searching Puck, somewhere a few feet away, and Blaine could hear their conversation going on a few feet away. Puck was going to get his visitation rights taken away if they arrested him too, and Puck had tried so hard to do the right by his daughter lately, and Blaine felt horrible about that because he was only trying to help Blaine, but Blaine had bigger problems right now.

"Getting rid of evidence?" the offier asked, handing the CSI the condoms.

"No! I …yeah, I guess I was, but…not because I…look, you've gotta believe me! I'd never hurt Kurt. But his dad is just, really really scary when he wants to be and he's not going to like the fact that he needed these in his car and he's never going to let me come over ever ever again." "Come on, kid, you're coming down town to answer a few questions."

"Can't I answer questions here? I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just…I can't go to jail. Kurt's dad will kill me. My dad will kill me. You have to believe me! I didn't do anything!"

"Kid, just calm down," the officer said, leading him away. "It's not the end of the world. You're just coming down to answer a few questions, okay?"

No, it might not have been the end of the world, but he was being carted off to jail and Kurt was missing...or worse.

And Blaine was beginning to think Armageddon was a better option.


	6. Chapter 6

If Blaine hated cop shows before, he absolutely, completely _loathed_ them now.

For one thing, the coffee was every bit as terrible as the cliché made it out to be, and he stopped counting how many cups he'd had for no other reason than the fact there was nothing else to do but wait and get more and more nervous. For another thing, they never mentioned how long a person had to wait just for someone to talk to them.

He'd been waiting in Interrogation Room B for four hours now according to the clock on the wall, which was the only decoration in the white-walled room. Puck had been led into Interrogation Room A, and although Blaine could hear shouts from time to time, he couldn't stand the thought of Puck going to jail and possibly losing visitation rights all because of him.

Then, _finally_, at 5:23 AM after Blaine had perfected the art of pacing and drumming his knuckles on the table, the doorknob turned and the woman whom he'd seen at Kurt's house entered.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," she began, studying a printed sheet. "I'm Detective Lebowski. You're not officially under arrest at this point. You're here because we just want to ask some questions."

Blaine nodded.

"Looks like this is your first run-in with the law. No priors. Not even a speeding ticket."

"I try to stay out of trouble," Blaine said, not quite sure where this was going.

"So that begs the question, then," she said, leaning in closer. "What the frilly fuck were you doing at my crime scene?"

Blaine blinked rapidly and chewed on the inside of his cheek and then inhaled. "It wasn't my idea to go to the crime scene," he said finally, hating himself for ratting Puck out after all Puck had done for him.

Truthfully, though, there wasn't a real reason for being near the crime scene. He just needed to know _something _about what happened to Kurt.

"So you and your friend just decided to go to your boyfriend's crime scene and remove evidence just for the hell of it?"

Blaine's eyes widened. "Nothing like that! It's just…I know Kurt wouldn't want his dad finding…what I found."

"Condoms. You were there to get the condoms back?" the detective massaged her temples and yawned.

"No," Blaine said, and huffed out a sigh in frustration. "It's just…that stuff has always been private between Kurt and me. I didn't want that broadcasted to the world, you know? Especially to his dad. His dad is crazy-over-protective, and if he found out Kurt needed those, he'd probably never let me near him again."

"How would you characterize your relationship with Kurt? Were you two on good terms?"

Blaine smiled. "Good. Really good," he answered.

"Really?" Lebowski balked. "According to a text your boyfriend sent to a mutual friend of yours, one…" she paused to glance down at her notes. "…Ms. Rachel Berry, things weren't exactly sunshine and roses between you two."

"We may have had a fight, yes," Blaine finally relented. "But what couples do you know don't fight once in awhile?"

"What was it about?"

"It was such a stupid fight," he said, curling his hands under his chin. "It wasn't about anything serious. It wasn't about…anything, actually. I was going to apologize to him tomorrow." He glanced up at the clock. "Well, I guess today, technically."

Only now he wasn't sure if he was ever going to get to see Kurt again.

"Was he going to leave you? Was that it?" Lebowski asked.

Blaine rapidly shook his head. "No. I mean, I don't think so."

"You transferred from your private school where you were the lead singer to be with your boyfriend, didn't you? And how does he repay you? By going to school in New York next year. That's a long way from Ohio. Plenty of other guys for him to flirt with in a big city like that. A lot more options for him."

"I didn't do this," he said in a tone as evenly as he could manage.

"I questioned your neighbors," Lebowski persisted, voice getting slightly louder. "They could hear a door slam and someone witnessed Kurt leaving your house in a hurry. I've gotta level with you, Blaine. Right now, there's a family hurting for answers, and because the kid's dad is a Congressman, there's going to be a whole world out there wanting answers in fairly short order. You're a smart kid. I'm betting you know what Occam's razor means. The simplest answer is usually the one that fits. And right now, Occam's razor applies to you."

Blaine banged his fist hard against the table. "I. Didn't. Do. This."

"You've got quite a temper, don't you, Mr. Anderson?" Lebowski said with a look of triumph on her face.

"Only when I'm being accused of something I didn't do."

Lebowski sighed. "What time did Kurt leave your residence?"

"Around nine o'clock, I think."

"Think. Really hard. What did you do after he left."

Blaine shrugged. "I played videogames…"

"Which ones?"

"_Call of Duty_, I think."

"That's a violent game," Lebowski commented. "You like violence?"

Blaine didn't answer.

"And then what did you do?" she finally asked after another beat.

"Then I watched _Firefly_ until I fell asleep, and the next thing I knew, his step-brother was calling to say Kurt was missing."

"You've already established that your parents are out of town. Anyone else at home with you?"

Blaine shook his head.

"No friends came over? Did you chat or Skype with anyone online?"

He shook his head again.

"So you were home by yourself after your boyfriend just stormed out of the house and didn't call anyone to talk about it?"

"They would've taken his side," Blaine answered weakly.

"So, Blaine," Lebowski said, setting her pen and folder down with a loud _thunk_ on the table, "this is my problem. Right now, we know you and Kurt were fighting. We know you have a temper. Right now, besides Kurt's, only _your_ DNA showed up at the crime scene. You're the only person who removed evidence from the crime scene. At the moment, from where I'm sitting, you might as well have a neon sign over your head flashing 'guilty' in neon red letters, because that's what all these facts indicate. Now, tell me the truth. Did you hire someone to run Kurt Hummel off the road?"

"NO!" Blaine exploded.

Lebowski didn't even flinch.

Instead, she flashed Blaine a sacchrine-sweet smile and clicked the pin and gave him the pad and paper.

"All I wanted was to know what happened to Kurt," he finally answered.

"Look, it's your choice, Blaine. Make it easier on everyone and give us the skinny." Her face was inches from his. "Who. Did. You. Hire?"

"I can't tell you who I hired because I didn't hire anyone!"

Lebowski was about to say something when there was a knock at the door, she sighed.

The man Blaine saw with her at Kurt's house entered, carrying a McDonald's bag and a large coffee.

"Oh thank God," she breathed.

Gilnitz looked from Blaine to Lebowski and back to Blaine again. "We got a hit from one of the DNA samples in CODIS."

"Norman Blackwell," he said, handing her the file. "Went to go pick him up, but he wasn't at the last address is PO had for him. None of his family members know where he is."

"Finally we're getting somewhere," Lebowski crowed. "So, Blaine," she said, gulping her coffee gratefully, "how did you come into contact with Mr. Blackwell?"

Blaine was about to protest when there came a swift knock at the door.

Blaine was surprised-yet-not to see Uncle Walter enter.

Walter leaned in so closet that Blaine could tell he hadn't brushed his teeth before leaving the house. "Your dad called," he mumbled. "I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd be getting your sorry ass out of hot water. I suppose you just proved me right."

Walter Anderson would've been a walrus if real-life was anything like a Disney cartoon. He was short and had all the charisma of a garden gnome. What little hair he had left on top of his head was peppery grey, and his beard and moustache were a slightly darker shade of grey.

It was the first time Blaine had seen his uncle since he'd come out of the closet. His Aunt Trisha made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with Blaine after he came out to his family, and Uncle Walter had gone along with it.

Not that Blaine actually _missed_ Uncle Walter. But he was there to help, and right now, Blaine needed all the help he could get.

"I'm Walter Anderson," he announced dryly. "I'll be representing Blaine."

He rolled his eyes at Blaine and made it clear he was not happy with his nephew at all.

"My nephew will not be answering any more questions," he monotoned. "I've been retained as his attorney by his parents," he plopped his briefcase on the table and slumped in the chair next to Blaine. "Anything you say to my client from now on will be communicated through me."


	7. Chapter 7

It was after 9 AM when Uncle Walter declared that they had nothing to hold Blaine on more than circumstantial evidence, and all Blaine was really guilty of was showing up at the wrong place at the wrong time trying to retrieve his own property.

And just like that, Blaine was getting into his uncle's car and heading home.

Blaine should've been relieved, but the truth was, that although he'd escaped the frying pan, he knew the fire was still hot and waiting.

His uncle informed him that he'd called his father as soon as he'd pulled out of the parking lot, and his parents had to change from the evening flight he'd originally scheduled to the afternoon plane, and Blaine could only nod, but he was silently freaking out about so many things. He could only imagine the disappointed look on his father's face, the forced conversation that would punctuate dinner, followed by the inevitable lecture he'd get, and the cold glares that would all but say 'I told you so' from his mother.

And that was just at home.

What was school going to be like on Monday?

Rachel would probably kill him in his sleep for allowing Kurt to be taken so close to Regionals, and if last night was any indication, Finn didn't need much of a reason to hate him again. And even if some miracle happened and Kurt did come back all in one piece, it would probably be a cold day in hell before Burt would let him back in the Hudson-Hummel house again after finding out about the condoms.

Truth was, though, he couldn't really blame them.

Which was why he was a little surprised to see Finn's number pop up on his Caller ID.

"Mom and I are heading to the airport to pick up Burt, and we were kinda wondering when you were gonna come back for your car, 'cause you're kinda blocking Mom in."

"Um…" was all Blaine could manage. "I'm not sure if that's exactly possible at the moment."

"Seriously, Dude? You're going to make us take my truck? It's gonna be kind of cramped all the way from Columbus."

"Finn, sorry…I…it's been a long night."

"I know, man…I didn't get any sleep either. The rest of the guys have been here. It's already on the news. I guess Burt had to tell Congress to get some time off, and the phone's been ringing off the hook all morning."

"No…I mean…yeah, it would've been a long night even if I hadn't been arrested, but…"

"Wait, what?"

"Puck might've…not taken me straight home."

"What'd he do this time?" Finn said with a sigh.

"Oh no! _He_ didn't do anything. Long story…but it might've ended with Puck and me in the back of a police car."

"Wait, what?" Finn repeated.

"I don't know if Puck's out yet, but I'm on my way home. Look, as soon as my parents get home, I can get the car."

"I'm still on the whole being arrested part," Finn said. "Puck can't be arrested now! He's eighteen. He's gonna go to real-people jail, not, you know...juvie."

"He was still in there with his parole officer and the detective when I left."

"Anyone else there with him?"

"I don't…I didn't…" Blaine stammered.

"And you just…left him there?" Finn exploded. "To rot?"

"I didn't mean to! I just…I'm with my uncle and he's not exactly inclined to do me any more favors today. I kind of have to go home now, and…look, Finn, I didn't want to, okay? Especially not after all he did for me."

"I know, I know…it just sucks 'cause he doesn't have money for a lawyer."

"Isn't one of Rachel's dads a lawyer?"

"Yeah, but he kind of doesn't like Puck. He called Puck's Mohawk a dead squirrel and named it Scrappy. Told him he had to shave it next time he came over, and Puck's avoided Rachel's house ever since."

"Text me his number. Let me try to talk to him. I can't just leave Puck hanging."

"Sending it your way. And Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll keep you posted as soon as there's any news, okay?"

"Thanks. I'll be by later to get the car." There was a beat of silence. "Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say…" Blaine inhaled a sharp breath. He would _not_ break down on the phone in the seat next to his uncle, but he needed Finn to know he had every right to be mad at him. "I mean, I should say it in person, but…I'm really sorry. He should've stayed at my place last night, and…"

"Blaine, listen to me. You're not the one who ran Kurt off the road, okay? Burt is a Congressman now, so Kurt going missing is gonna be a national headline by lunch if it isn't already. They're gonna find him. And when they do? You, me and Burt are gonna make sure whoever did this gets what's coming to them."

Blaine nodded as though Finn could see it. In the driver's seat next to him, his uncle let out a huff of annoyance.

"You want me to call Mr. Berry?" Finn asked after another beat of awkward silence. "I don't think he hates me yet."

"That might be a good idea," Blaine said. He hung up, and closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool glass of the windowpane and let the rhythm of the road lull him to sleep for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

><p>As far as Puck was concerned, in the history of shit, he was currently sitting in the world's biggest pile of it.<p>

So a guy steals his mom's car once and crashes it into a store and runs off with an ATM, they find him at a crime scene over a year later, and it's back to public enemy number one.

The hot detective lady was getting ready to throw the book at him, and not in a porno movie sort of way. His parole officer was on her way and his ass would be hauled off to jail before the night was over.

His life was pretty much over. He just knew it, and that sucked big hairy balls.

He'd miss Regionals, and if they made it to Nationals, he'd miss that, too. He'd miss graduation. But the worst part was, it'd be a long time before he got to see Beth again, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

The thing was, he wasn't even all that surprised. Hell, he knew he'd wind up there the same way Berry knew she'd wind up on Broadway.

But the kicker? He wasn't here for dealing drugs or getting caught with a fake ID or doing anything cool like robbing a liquor store.

He was here because he was trying to be the good guy in the situation.

Not that that mattered.

He wasn't even that surprised when his Nana refused to bail him out of jail again.

It just sucked because that was his one phone call.

"You got yourself into this mess, you know," his parole officer said as she walked in the door.

Oh, he knew.

But would he do it all over again? For one of his boys? Abso-fucking-lutely.

The hot detective lady had the cuffs out of her pocket and was about to tell him to turn around and read him his rights when a knock came on the door.

"What the hell?" Puck stated in lieu of a greeting.

Hiram Berry entered and sat down in the chair next to Puck.

"So, what's shakin', Shawshank?" Mr. Berry greeted.

"And you're here because…"

"I'm here to represent you. My Little Rachealla appealed on your behalf." Then he turned to the detective. "If you were hoping for a party in the county jail, ma'am, I think you're going to be disappointed."

"But I don't…" Puck started. "We aren't exactly rolling in it. I don't think we can afoard…"

Mr. Berry put a hand up in protest. "I'm taking this case on a pro-bono basis."

"Is that like, some gay-thing, 'cause Kurt and Blaine are my boys and all, but...dude, I so do NOT swing that way."

"For free," Mr. Berry explained rolling his eyes. "I'm taking the case for free. Almost."

"I knew it…" Puck said. "What's the price?"

"Say good-bye to Scrappy," he countered.

"No. Way!" Puck protested. "I shaved my head once…it wasn't pretty."

"Of course if you want to rot in jail, that's up to you…" Mr. Berry said in a sing-song voice.

"Can you get me out of here?"

"You bet your bippy." He turned to the detective. "Now," he said, sitting down and turning to the detective. "What do we have here?"

"Mr. Puckerman was found at a crime scene as an accessory to vandalizing a crime scene." The parole officer said.

"Do you have any, you know…actual evidence?" Mr. Berry demanded.

"Well, uh, none of the tests have come back conclusive yet," the detective explained.

"And again, I ask, do you have actual evidence with which to charge my client?"

"He has priors, " the parole officer said.

"Where are we? Mayberry? Noah," Mr. Berry said, ushering Puck out the door. "I believe that you and I have a date with Supercuts."


	8. Chapter 8

A soft, grey light began to filter through the crack in the door above him, and that was the only way Kurt could tell that it was now morning.

He thought he could detect the faintest whiff of coffee brewing and didn't know whether to be scared or relieved as he heard two sets of heavy footsteps thud against the floor above him. It was anyone's guess if one of them belonged to Sebastian.

He had no clue where he was beyond the fact that he seemed to be in a basement, which smelled musty and had no incoming light except for the one door's crack. Both of his wrists were wrapped several times around by heavy metal chain, like the kind Kurt saw on tires in his dad's shop during the winter months. He was tied to metal frame of what Kurt figured out during Sebastian's little visit was a double-sized bed, and the chains made a horrible clanking sound every time he tried to move.

Kurt didn't think he'd ever been so uncomfortable in his entire life. His mouth felt like sandpaper thanks to the sandwich-turned-gag, and while he'd managed to spit most of it out, peanut butter and pieces of bread were still sticking to the roof of his mouth. Although Kurt was considerably dryer than he was when Sebastian doused him with the water, his clothes were clinging to his skin and he was sure he could smell mold growing all over his favorite jeans, although that was a minor annoyance compared to the fact that his wrists had gone numb a long time ago. Plus, Kurt really _really_ had to go to the bathroom.

But more pressing was the fact that Kurt had no idea where he was, no idea how long he'd been there, and worse still, no clue how to escape. His legs weren't tied up, but the cramping in his shins were starting to travel up to his thighs. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since Sebastian left, but one thing was certain: if Blaine wanted to try being tied up any time soon after he got out of this mess, his boyfriend was just plain out of luck, because Kurt was quickly becoming the expert on how much it sucked.

"Hey!" he shouted up at the ceiling. "Can anyone up there hear me? HEY!"

Of course the basement _would_ be sound-proof. His throat was already sore from crying and screaming, and although Kurt had never been a damsel in distress, he certainly wouldn't sneeze at a prince sweeping in and saving the day.

Or his dad. Or Blaine. Or hell, even Finn.

Although he couldn't exactly say he was grateful that Karofsky and his goons made his life hell for the better part of three years, it did give his dad a reason to teach him how to fight back. Coach Sylvester had declared his high kick a lethal weapon that should be registered.

Although that would all be useless if he couldn't get their attention upstairs.

This was _not_ okay. His dad would worry himself into another heart attack. He needed to tell Blaine that he was sorry, that what they were fighting about didn't matter.

And on top of everything, the NYADA final audition was coming up in two weeks, and no way in hell was Sebastian taking that away from him.

He yelled again, and tried to break shake the chains, which grated against the wall of the basement, giving him an idea.

He did it again, this time harder. If it gave Sebastian or whoever else was up there enough annoyance, they'd come eventually.

It didn't take long before he heard footsteps approach the door.

"Hey, kid, you mind keepin' it down?" he heard a voice that definitely didn't belong to Sebastian shout through the door. "We're tryin' to watch _The View._"

"While I'm sure Elisabeth Hasselbeck is giving a rousing diatribe on the merits of prayer in the public school, I have to pee. Badly. If you don't at least get me out of these chains so I can go to the bathroom, the smell is going to be enough to make the neighbors call the cops, and…"

"Oh for cryin' out loud, you're more annoying than my mother's Pomeranian!" he said, Kurt closed his eyes as soon as the light switch was turned on and opened them slowly.

"What did you do before your life of crime?" Kurt sniped. "Wal-Mart greeter? K-Mart model?"

"Shut the fuck up, Fancy," he barked.

He was shorter than his father and stockier, and Kurt was fairly confident that even as stiff as he was, the chances that he could outrun his captor were pretty good.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he finally felt the chains losen for the first time since he woke up. The minute his wrists were free, he took his chance.

The goon doubled over as Kurt's knee made contact with the man's groin, and there was a sickening crack of bone as Kurt's fist made contact with his nose, causing the man to cry out and giving Kurt a chance to escape..

Kurt ran as fast as his legs could carry him, which, considering how stiff he was, was about half of his normal speed, but he was still had a considerable lead when he reached the top of the stairs. He opened the door, only to be greeted with another person, this one bigger and wielding a frying pan. Kurt ducked the swing of the pan only to feel himself being pulled down as a set of hands grabbed his legs.

He bit his tongue hard as his chin made a dull thunking sound against one of the steps.

"That's it, Princess," the shorter goon shouted. "That's fucking it!" he took the frying pan from his partner's hand. "Say goodnight, Gracie."

* * *

><p>Sebastian sat with a smirk on his face as Trent, Nick and Jeff finished with the last verse of Elton John's '<em>Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word<em>' before Warbler rehearsal officially began.

"Excellent harmonies, gentlemen, as always," he said, clapping loud and slow, and in such a way that it was clear it wasn't an applause at all. "But that's about the gayest thing I've ever heard," he declared. "And it's _never_ going to get us to Nationals.

"That wasn't about getting us to Nationals," Jeff said. "It was about apologizing to our friends."

"We have to make things right with Blaine and Kurt," Nick added.

"What you did to Blaine was just unconscionable!" Trent joined in.

"Guys, I told you it wasn't meant for Blaine, it was meant for _Kurt_, and I told you I was going to get us to Nationals, didn't I? Look, you want to apologize to Blainers, I get it. That's sweet. Post it up on YouTube. But for Nationals? That song is not gonna cut it."

"Like that's supposed to make it all better? Because it was meant for Kurt?" Nick fumed.

"Being a Warbler used to mean something," Jeff declared. "We were like…help me out here, guys."

"The Four Tops!" Trent blurted out.

"Only…way more. And mostly white," Nick added with a nod.

"And sadly lacking the sparkly blazers," Jeff said.

"What ever happened to 'Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler?'" Trent demanded.

The other Warblers started to voice their protests, too.

"Gentlemen, relax," Sebastian drawled. "I have a bit of…how shall I say? Inside information. Suffice it to say, Blaine and Kurt are most definitely on the losing team. Nick, Jeff, Trent, if you want to associate with losers, go right ahead, but don't go around spreading trade secrets if you do, boys. Everyone else? Start buying your L.A. Groupons, gentlemen, and start brushing up on _Hooray for Hollywood_ for the bus-ride there, because a month from now, we will be on our way. I guarantee it. Now, boys," he said, passing around sheet music for _In the Dark of the Night_ from _Anastasia_. "Let's get started on our opening number, hmm?"

* * *

><p>Detective Delia Lebowski frowned as she watched Captain Tanner beg Ohio for answers on the evening news.<p>

She hated cases like these.

If it had been a straight, blonde, pretty girl, the nation would be in an uproar right now, invested on bringing the Hummel kid home. However, because it was McKinley High's Resident Gay Kid, the local press was barely giving her partner the time of day.

But then Congressman Hummel approached the podium. He looked so completely out of place to her wearing a suit. She'd only ever seen him in pictures and on TV wearing flannel. His wife was sniffling beside him and beside her, his step-son looked like a lost little puppy. A freakishly _tall_ lost little puppy.

"Last time I spoke to you, it was as your candidate for Congress. Today, I speak to you as a father. I know a lot of you might think that the way my son lives his life is wrong, but whatever you think of his lifestyle, he didn't…he _doesn't _deserve this. The people who love him don't deserve this. We just want him safe…back home where he belongs…"

A reporter was asking the man a question, and Lebowski couldn't take it anymore, and turned the television in the precinct off.

Kurt was almost eighteen, which almost made him too old to issue an Amber Alert, but as soon as an abduction had become evident, that was first on her to-do list. He wasn't a little kid by any stretch of the definition, but that somehow made it worse. From what his step-mother had told her, Kurt was months away from graduation, weeks away from his audition to some damn theater school.

Lebowski didn't know why anyone would want to major in something as horrible as musical theater, but judging from the You Tube videos Gilnitz found had on his Facebook, he had the talent to get out of this town, and she knew how hard kids like Kurt fought to escape from the clutches of Lima Loserdome.

She was so _sure _it was the boyfriend, and had told the captain as much when she debriefed him on the progress of the case. But his family had money, so he lawyered up and she was back at ground zero.

Chewing on a pencil, she poured over the evidence for the hundredth time, hoping that there was something she missed when Gilnitz took a seat across from her.

He said nothing for a few minutes and just turned the TV back on.

She rolled her eyes and started filling out paperwork for the case.

"John."

"What? I'm here to help!"

"I know there's not much to do in this town, but the case is at a standstill. We won't have anything to go on until we get results from the lab. Go home."

"Aw, but D…"

"Don't call me that. Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"Yeah, but you're my favorite. Plus…" he held up a piece of paper. "I know something you don't know," he said in a sing-song voice.

Lebowski rolled her eyes, and Gilnitz was practically dancing in his seat.

"So I did some digging. Apparently, this kid had a few enemies."

"Enemies?"

"Well, not so much enemy as a guy who visited his Facebook page exactly 237 times in the last three days."

"So a stalker?"

Gilnitz nodded.

"One David Karofsky. I also found an email from a hate group we could check out."

She picked up her keys. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"

Gilnitz could only follow.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine barely spoke two words since he'd hung up on Finn.

His parents were home by half-past three.

"Where's your car?" Was all his father had to say about the situation after Blaine explained everything.

"It's at Kurt's," Blaine informed him, and with that, he turned on his heels, went upstairs, barely listening as his father told him they would get it after dinner, and closed his door.

Several hours later Blaine found himself in his second passenger seat of the day. He hadn't slept at all in the past forty-eight hours, and he didn't know if he'd be able to sleep again.

The worst part of it was, he felt like he'd been in a passenger seat since this whole thing began. Before that, since that stupid fight.

They were half-way there before his father actually spoke.

"Blaine, your mother and I are very concerned about you," he said, eyes never leaving the road.

Blaine said nothing.

"You're very lucky that your Uncle Walter was able to get you out of that mess, Blaine. I don't think I need to tell you that."

Blaine's jaw clenched and he watched the clouds float by above the open road in front of them, and wished he could be anywhere else at that moment.

"There are certain calls a parent never wants to get," his father continued. "Within the last month, I've gotten two such calls."

"I'm SO unbelievably sorry," Blaine replied, studying his hands, which were occupying his lap. "I didn't even know where Puck was going last night when we left."

"What's done is done," his father said with a resigned sigh. "Don't you think…" he glanced over at Blaine for the first time since they'd arrived home: "maybe this is a message from God?"

"My boyfriend was _kidnapped_ Dad," Blaine spat. A terrible thought settled in the pit of his stomach. "Maybe worse. I highly doubt God speaks through felons."

"Blaine…" he warned. "I'm not trying to get into a theological debate with you, and you know it. Your mother and I…we're just worried about you. That's all. It's just…you transfer schools for this _boy_, and then we get a call that you're in an emergency room. You almost lose an _eye_. Then we get a call that you're in _jail_?"

"Would it be easier to handle if it were all for a girl?"

"Now you're twisting my words! I might not be ready to be in a Pride parade yet, but I've accepted that this is who you are, but…" he dismissively waved his hand in the air. "Forget it. Forget this whole conversation."

"Dad, if you've got something to say, just say it."

"Is it worth it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is _he_ worth it?"

"You think it's Kurt's fault?" Blaine asked, disbelieving what his father was saying.

"I think you're being influenced by him in potentially harmful ways, yes. Kurt's…not like you. He's not..." he paused for a moment in thought. "Discreet."

"Funny," Blaine snapped back. "I call it brave."

The rest of the ride to Kurt's house was silent.

* * *

><p>Dave Karofsky could hardly say he was surprised to see detectives at his door after he saw the news. Ever since he saw the report, he'd been rehearsing the questions he was certain they were going to ask.<p>

So when two cops—a man and a woman (Karofsky didn't catch their names)—came to his door, he took a deep breath and offered them something to drink, because that's what his mother always did for guests.

And guilty people don't offer their guests a glass of water.

They declined.

"Here's my problem, Mr. Karofsky," the Lady Cop said. "Kurt Hummel's missing. And as far as his enemies go, you're kind of near the top of a very short list."

"We're not enemies" Karofsky answered. "Not anymore. I mean…we used to be. I kinda gave him a hard time for awhile, but…I'm not that guy…not anymore."

"We did some digging. Apparently you threatened his life at one point and he took you seriously enough to go to the principal. And when that didn't take, he transferred to a private school. All because he was afraid for his safety. Because of you."

"We're past that. We're friends now. Kinda."

"Friends?" Lady-Cop balked. "On what? Opposite Day? You visited his Facebook page over two hundred times in the last forty-eight hours. He's got a boyfriend, yet you sent him a gorilla gram on Valentine's Day."

"No! I mean…I did…I was hoping…but he made it clear he wasn't interested."

"So you decided to hire a couple of guys to do some damage?" The Lady-Cop asked. "Is that it?"

"No! Look. I-I-I-I know you don't have a reason to believe me," Karofsky stammered. "And yeah, I know how it looks…if I were you, I'd think the same thing, but, I had nothing to do with this."

"Where were you shortly after nine last night?" Lady-Cop asked.

Karofsky twisted his class ring on his finger.

"I was here," he answered, not making eye-contact. "I was watching the Blue Jackets game on the Flatscreen."

"That's hockey," the Guy-Cop filled in. Lady-Cop rolled her eyes.

"Who were they playing?" Guy-Cop asked.

"The Ducks," Karofsky fired back.

"Who won?" Guy-Cop asked.

"Ducks," Karofsky said with a grimace. "They should never have traded Vermette for McElhinney."

"Who made the last play in that game?" Guy-Cop asked.

"Well, if you were on this case. You wouldn't know that, either." Karofsky countered.

"The internet is _not_ just for porn, kid," Guy-Cop said with a smirk. "That kind of thing is easy to Google. Here's the thing…I don't think you were here last night."

"What happened, David?" Lady-Cop demanded.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Did you have something to do with Kurt's abduction?" she asked. "Look, if you tell us now, I can put in a good word for you. All you have to do is cooperate. Now." She leaned in closer, close enough that Karofsky could tell she hadn't showered or brushed her teeth yet that day, which made Karofsky flinch back. "Tell us where he is."

"I don't know, okay?" Karofsky was shouting now. "Look, I was sort of…in a bar last night at that time."

"Which bar?" Lady-Cop demanded.

"Scandals." Karofsky half-mumbled, studying the pattern on the Oriental rug in his living room.

"Any witnesses?" Guy-Cop asked.

"The bartender. I don't know if this helps, but about a week ago, there was this guy there."

"It's a gay bar. You're going to have to be a teensy bit more specific," Lady-Cop spat.

"I-I-I mean…there's this guy who hangs out there a lot. Sebastian. He was there with Kurt and his boyfriend this one time, and Sebastian was hanging all over Blaine…the boyfriend."

"So?" Lady-Cop prompted.

"So…I clean up for the owner of Scandals on weekends for some extra cash, and I saw that Sebastian dude come in with a couple of guys. They didn't seem exactly…comfortable there, and…not like they were closeted. They were checking out some of the more convincing drag queens. Anyway, Sebastian handed out envelopes to both of them, and there was a print-out of Kurt's Facebook page left at their table. I thought it was weird at the time, but it's the kind of place where most people tend to mind their own business unless, well…" he looked down again. "…you know."

"Could you point them out if you saw them again?" Guy-Cop asked.

"Sebastian? Sure. He goes to Dalton. I think his last name is something like Smith…but…not quite."

"What about the guys he was with?" Lady-Cop asked. "Can you point them out in a line-up?"

"I didn't get a good look at their faces, sorry."

She handed him a card. "If you think of anything else, call this number. And please make yourself available if we need to ask more questions."

"She means don't leave town," Guy-Cop put in.

"For what it's worth," Karofsky said as they lead them to the door. "I hope you find him."

Lady-Cop nodded and with that, they both left.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: So sorry it's been so long since an update! Maaaajor case of writer's block and RL interference. I promise I'm going to finish this! But anyway, enjoy! **

* * *

><p>It had been a horribly busy night at St. Rita's Emergency Room. It was Sunday, which meant that the patient load was higher than normal. People would come in for minor things hoping that they'd be able to get a written excuse from work, and then there were the weekend warriors who forgot they weren't in their twenties anymore, and it was Carole's job that evening to assess patients in triage, which meant that she was the one who decided whether or not a patient got the golden ticket to see a doctor.<p>

That was until about half-way through her shift when one of the floor nurses called out with the flu and they became short-handed, so she was corralled into the patient area, checking vitals and starting IVs if necessary. It was hectic, but she liked he hustle and bustle of the Emergency Room. It meant that she barely even felt the time go by, and she was exhausted by the end of the day, but it was usually a good kind of exhaustion.

This time, though, it was a different story. It was Friday night when they discovered that Kurt was missing, and now it was Sunday night, which meant that it was nearing the forty-eight hour mark, and Carole watched enough cop shows to know that the chances of finding Kurt were getting slimmer and slimmer. There was still no news from the police department, and nobody in the Hudson-Hummel household had been getting much sleep. She tried calling in, but Burt wouldn't let her, telling her that calling in wouldn't do Kurt any good and that he'd call her the minute he got news.

So now she jumped at every page, wondering if that was it, if that was the call that Burt promised.

She was two hours from the end of her shift when a new patient patient. A boy had been the victim of third-degree burns covering seventy-five percent of his body, and his face had been so disfigured that he wasn't really recognizable. The boy should've been taken to a burn unit with that kind of damage, but with the closest one in Columbus, his best chance of survival was St. Rita's. He was unresponsive and at first, and so she just did what the doctors told her to do. She began applying the bandages, and it was then she noticed something for the first time. What was left of his skin, Carole could see that he was fair-skinned. He had short, dark brown hair, and he was slender.

Just like…

_No._ She pushed the thought out of her mind as she went about bandaging his legs. They were long. Not freakishly long like Finn's, but not short, either.

Kurt had certainly grown since she and Burt had been married. He was only a few inches shy of Finn's height, but that described a lot of boys.

A teenager with pale skin, slender build, dark hair and average height described a fourth of the teenage male population in Ohio.

It was when he opened his eyes briefly that Carole truly wanted to throw up. They were a gray-blue, just like Burt's and…

"Oh God…" she breathed. "Kurt?" she asked after a few seconds, bottom lip trembling, searching his face for anything that confirmed her fears. "Kurt, honey? If you're Kurt, can you blink once for me?"

The boy closed his eyes, and Carole sobbed.

Then the heart monitor began to beep wildly.

"Come on, honey, stay with us," Carole pleaded as she stepped aside to make room for the doctors to work.

A long, loud tone sounded, and the monitor flat-lined.

* * *

><p>The first thing Kurt became aware of was the strong smell of coffee and too much cheap cologne. He wanted to open his eyes, to move, to scream, to do <em>something<em>, but his body was simply not cooperating.

"He tried to fight back, Boss," a voice was saying. "If you ask me, I still say it's too much trouble keepin' him alive."

There was a pause. "Fine, but if the Feds try and lean on us, we're gonna sing like a couple of canaries. Understood?"

Kurt tried to react to that, but he couldn't.

And the nothingness overtook him again.

* * *

><p>In the history of weekends, as far as Blaine was concerned, this was going in the books as one of the worst ever.<p>

He hadn't slept. What if Kurt called in trouble somewhere, or worse? What if Mr. Hummel called with news? There was no way he was getting any sleep in the near future. And no amount of Buffy-Angst was going to make this any less awful.

To make matters worse, his parents hadn't said a word since he came back from the Hudson-Hummel house. He didn't want to face them after being arrested, but Carole had insisted on pulling him inside and making sure he was alright.

Sarah Michelle Gellar's autotuned voice was in the middle of the second verse of _Walk Through the Fire_ from _Once More With Feeling_ when a timid knock came from the door.

"Blaine, honey," his mother's voice called from the other side. "There's something on the television you should probably see. It's…I think they found Kurt."

* * *

><p>Kurt felt like he was swimming, still underwater.<p>

"Wake up sleepy-head…" a slightly familiar voice hummed.

The light hurt his eyes and his head throbbed, and the sight of Sebastian leering at him was enough to make the bile find its way up his esophagus.

He was still tied up with the chains, although this time, his legs were bound by rope as well.

"Aaaaaw, Kurty-cat feeling a little under the weather?" Sebastian leered.

"Look, let me go, Sebastian. Let me go and I won't tell anyone who did this. Give me money for a cab back to my house, and I'll just show up and everybody gets their happy ending."

"Oh, Kurt, I do believe the brain injury has slightly effected your cognitive ability. A cab ride? Back to Lima when we're a couple of hours' drive away? Do you have any idea how much that would cost with the tip alone? That's' _if _I can get a cab company to come out here in the first place."

"You are a blemish on the entire gay community. Too bad they don't make enough Proactive to get rid of you."

"Meeeeow," Sebastian said with a laugh, and that's when Kurt noticed the laptop in his hand. "Well, Princess, bare those claws at me all you want, but I thought we'd just have a little movie night? What do you say?"

"Go to hell," Kurt seethed.

"Original. Now…direct your attention to this little ditty I found on YouTube today."

"A search for a missing teen ends in tragedy tonight," a reporter was saying with the WOHN logo flashing across the bottom of the video. "The body of Kurt Hummel, son of Congressman Burt Hummel has been found. He was taken to St. Rita's, and was treated for severe burns. However, sadly, he died of his injuries within moments of being brought in. The family has not made final arrangements yet, and while people have been questioned in the kidnapping"

"Oh god…" Kurt breathed. "They think I'm…Sebastian, you have to fix this. Hurt me, that's one thing, but nobody hurts my family. I'm not going to let you. You will let me go, or I'll…"

"Or you'll what? Oh, Kurt," Sebastian said, laughing. "Look where you are. And now look where I am. Clearly, you are not in any position to be dishing out threats. Now, if you'll excuse me. Your boyfriend needs consoling."

With that Sebastian left, and Kurt could do nothing to stop him.


	11. Chapter 11

Logically, Kurt knew this plan of Sebastian's wasn't going to work.

He knew he had to stay calm. A panic attack wouldn't do anybody any good, and the worst Sebastian was obviously capable of violence, but all he really wanted to do was intimidate him.

He knew Blaine better than anyone else in the world. Blaine was a lot of things, but gullible wasn't one of them, and there was no way that he'd be that easily swayed by Sebastian's attempt at charm.

For Sebastian's plan to work, Blaine had to believe that the kid was him, and that the people who loved him the most were going to stop looking just because someone resembled him.

Did Sebastian really think Blaine was that stupid? That his family would just give up that easily?

He knew the same way he knew that the ocean was deep that as long as there was a possibility that he was still alive, that at least two people would never give up.

He worried about his dad, how he was taking the news. What if the stress was bad for his heart? What if he had another heart attack and Kurt couldn't get to him in time? Sebastian wouldn't care about that.

And Blaine…

Yes, they'd been fighting, but deep down, Kurt knew it was a stupid fight and they would've made up long before now if this hadn't happened. More than anything, Kurt just wanted to wrap his arms around Blaine again and spend the rest of his life making up for it.

He played the report over and over again in his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder how far the police were in the investigation. He wondered who'd been questioned. If any of his friends had to be questioned because of Sebastian's latest stunt, he had a new reason to be angry all over again.

He had no idea how much long he'd be here, and he didn't know for certain that Sebastian wouldn't decide to kill him in the end.

But he knew if it came down to it, he'd fight like hell.

Sebastian was going to get what was coming to him.

He just _had_ to.

Sebastian was_ not_ going to win.

* * *

><p>It was after 1 AM by the time Carole finished talking to the detectives. She'd found Burt and Finn waiting up for her.<p>

"Oh Burt…he looked just like him. I mean, you couldn't really see his face because it was burned so badly, and I know a lot of boys fit that description, but…when he opened his eyes…that's what made me think…"

She broke down all over again and Burt wrapped his arms around her.

"He's not dead," Burt said after a long while. "As you said, lot of boys fit that description. It could be anybody."

"Still," Carole sniffled as she prepared herself a kettle for a cup of chamomile tea. "We don't know for sure. It _could_ be anybody, yes. But it could just as easily be Kurt."

"You really think it's him, don't you, Mom?" Finn asked, standing in the doorway.

"I don't want that to be true any more than you do, but we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility."

"So you're just giving up? Just like that?" Finn shouted.

"I want Kurt home safe where he belongs as much as anyone, but honey, I'm just saying, the police aren't getting anywhere, and at least this way, if it _is _Kurt," she let out a long, shaky breath as she fiddled with the tea bag in the cup she had out for when the tea was ready, "at least we'll know he's at peace. At least we'll know where he is. At least whoever hurt him wouldn't be able to anymore."

Nobody in the Hudson-Hummel household had gotten any sleep that night. Finn had been restless, and tried to watch TV, but it seemed like every channel had the latest bulletin on Kurt's "death."

He didn't believe it, and he couldn't even find it in his heart to be surprised when the detective came to the door to confirm that it wasn't Kurt, that it was actually some poor kid named Colby Porter who'd just happen to be involved in an accident that day.

Burt called Blaine to let him know, and then he and his mom had just cried in each other's arms and Finn went upstairs to get ready for school.

"You don't have to go today if you don't want to, honey," his mom offered.

"No…I mean…I know usually, I'd be all 'Yay, no school!' But I can't just sit around here Mom. I'm going nuts. I need to do something that feels normal, you know?"

"Just be careful, honey. Call 9-1-1 and then call us if you see anything suspicious."

Finn nodded, and with that, he left.

* * *

><p>Blaine knew that sooner or later, he'd have to face a Kurt-less McKinley. He just didn't think it'd be so sudden or for reasons this awful. He glanced up at the façade of the school dreading the fresh hell that was surely waiting for him in the walls within, and for the first time since that day he saw him on the Dalton stairs, he felt completely and utterly alone.<p>

Outside of the people in New Directions, he didn't even know anyone at McKinley, and outside of Kurt. He was, for all intents and purposes, alone. He didn't have any friends here, not real ones. The girls in New Directions were more Kurt's friends than his. He knew the guys well enough to say hello to them, but unless it was a group thing with Kurt, he wouldn't really know what to say to them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie, and found Rachel offering him a small smile.

"It'll be okay, Blaine," Rachel said. "He's going to be back where he belongs before we know it. He just has to! I mean…who am I going to go to New York with?"

"Because yes, Fievel, the only reason Kurt should come back is so he can have you for his fag hag," Santana sneered. "Come on, Frosted Mini-Wheat," she said, turning to Blaine. "We've got your back."

"Dolphins are really smart, Blaine," Brittany informed him. "They always find their way home. That's how I know Kurt's going to find his way back to us before we know it."

"Thanks, I think?" Blaine said, thoroughly confused.

"That's pigeons, Britt," Santana said. "Pigeons find their way home."

Blaine was about to say something in response when Mercedes brushed past them.

"What's wrong with her?" Blaine wondered aloud.

"They ran out of Griddlers at McDonald's this morning, maybe?" Santana said with a shrug. "Who the hell knows. Come on, we're about to be late."

If this was the beginning of his day, Blaine thought as he slid into his desk during Homeroom, he almost didn't want to stick around for the end of it.


	12. Chapter 12

When Will arrived at work the next morning, Figgins ushered him and Emma in his office. Sue was waiting as well, along with a woman Will had recognized from the police reports on the news over the weekend.

He didn't even have to ask what this was about.

"William, I am sure you are aware of Kurt Hummel's disappearance on Friday night," he stated, taking a seat behind his desk. "I've already told the Lima Police that they can expect full cooperation from the McKinley High faculty and staff."

Will nodded.

"I'm Delia Lebowski," the stranger said. "I'm the detective in charge of the case. I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

"Yeah," Will said absent-mindedly. "Anything to help."

"Friday afternoon, did Kurt seem distracted or upset about anything?"

Will shook his head. "Not that I noticed. I mean, he's got NYADA auditions coming up and that was a big worry for him, but other than that, things seemed to be going pretty well."

"Do you know of anyone who'd wish him harm?"

"I hate to say it, but Kurt's kind of got some enemies around here. I mean, isn't that what happens when you stand out in a place like this? There's the jocks who aren't in Glee. And while I don't think Dave…"

"Dave who?"

"Karofsky. He was a former student at McKinley who used to give Kurt a hard time. I really don't believe he would hurt him anymore," Will back-pedaled. "Although he did threaten to kill him a year ago. Then there's the jocks who aren't in glee…and yeah. It's kind of a long list."

"Anyone stand out in particular?"

Will was silent in thought for a minute.

"I know there's been some violence from a member of a competing glee club."

"What happened?"

That was the trouble, Will didn't really know except for what Finn told him, which wasn't much. "I don't have all the details. All I know is that Kurt was the intended target of a slushy with rock salt in it. It wound up hitting Blaine instead, who had to have eye-surgery and had to miss a few weeks of school."

"Do you know who was responsible?"

"I think his name was Sebastian."

"I'd like to talk to some of Kurt's friends if you don't mind. I've already had a discussion with a Noah Puckerman and Blaine Anderson, as well as Finn Hudson, but I'd like to get a better sense of what we could be dealing with here."

"Yes, I heard about that," Sue piped up for the first time. "Puckerman, I can understand. That kid has a record longer than _War and Peace_, but Blaine Anderson? Believe me, the only crime that one's capable of is bow-tie abuse."

She cleared her throat. "Ma'am, he was just brought in for questioning, that's all. We were following the only lead we had at the time."

"Well, you're doing a bang-up job there, Cagney. Porcelain's been gone since Friday night. You're well past the forty-eight hour mark. I watch the Criminal investigation Network! I know what that means!"

"I appreciate your concern, but we're doing the best we…"

"You can take your platitudes and shove them up your flabby ass! Porcelain deserves better than this. I will give you twenty-four hours!"

"Sue!" Will warned.

"I'm not finished, William. After that, if you still don't have the right person in custody, I will call every single press junket that I've got on speed dial. I'll tell the world just what kind of idiots are wasting hard-earned resources." She lowered her voice to a near-growl. "You've. Been. Warned."

With that, Sue stormed out, knocking down a framed picture in her wake.

* * *

><p>Blaine genuinely liked school.<p>

Most of the time.

Sure, there were parts of it he didn't like, and classes might not have been as challenging as they were at Dalton, but he actually loved learning and coming to McKinley definitely wasn't the sacrifice his parents made it out to be. He would've missed getting the lead in _West Side Story_ if he hadn't transferred. He got to sing pretty much what he wanted and he couldn't say no to that. It nearly killed him when he had to miss for three weeks for the eye surgery. And not just because he couldn't see Kurt all the time.

Granted, that was a big part of it, but it wasn't the entire reason.

Today, though, he wanted nothing more than an excuse to go back home and hide.

Every single person he passed was eyeing him warily as he walked by, but nobody spoke to him. A couple of people looked in his direction and shook his head.

Even that Teen Jesus kid Blaine referred to in his head as Shoeless Joe came up to him to inform him that he was "praying for Kurt's safe return."

It wasn't until first period that Jacob Ben-Israel cornered him.

"JBI reporting live from the hallowed halls of McKinley High. The latest buzz is that Kurt Hummel is missing and that boyfriend Blaine Anderson was questioned by police over the weekend. Blaine, rumor has it that you're responsible for Kurt Hummel's disappearance. What do you have to say to the blogosphere regarding those allegations?"

Blaine sighed. It was a small town. Of course word had gotten out about that.

"Charges haven't been brought against me. Which is why I'm at school now instead of in jail. Now if you don't mind, first period calls."

He was surprised when Sam of all people began ushering him away. "You heard him," Sam said. "Now get lost."

"Hey, thanks…for that," Blaine said before he ducked into history class.

"No problem, man. Kurt was really cool when I was homeless and stuff. I figured this way, I'm kind of returning the favor, you know?"

Blaine wanted to say something about not needing a knight in bleach-blonde armor and being able to take care of himself just fine, but before he could, Sam was on his way to his own class.

On the way to third period, Blaine whipped his head around when one of the jocks (he thought Kurt said his name was Azimio) shouted: "Yo, fairy, where's your princess?"

Blaine wanted to hide right then and there. It'd been a long time since he'd heard slurs like that, and he'd forgotten how awful it felt, but before he even knew what was happening, Mike was there. "Hey! Leave him alone!" he warned.

"Or you'll what? Tap-dance me to death, twinkle-toes?"

"I don't think you wanna find out," Mike said in a low, threatening tone, staring them down.

"Thanks," Blaine said, but he didn't really mean it.

Mike just nodded.

By the time glee rehearsal rolled around, Blaine had had enough. He made a bee-line for the choir room as soon as seventh period was over because he thought it was the only place he couldn't be bothered for a few seconds, but as he approached, he heard people talking. Mercedes' and Rachel's argument was loud enough that he didn't have to strain to hear what was being said.

"_Mercedes, did you even listen to what you just said? There is no way that Blaine is responsible for what happened to Kurt!"_

"_Look, I don't like the idea any more than you do. But something tells me that there's got to be a reason why the cops questioned him to begin with."_

"_It was because they were at the crime scene and Blaine took something. That was it. Blaine didn't do anything wrong other than listen to me," Puck said. _

"_Listen Mercedes," Finn was saying. "I might not like him one hundred percent of the time, either, but you've seen them together. Blaine loves Kurt. Like, really loves him. There's no way he could've done anything. And plus, if he did, he knows Burt'll kill him, and I don't think he'd do anything to piss my mom off, either." _

"_Look," Quinn was saying. "I know you don't always get along with Blaine, but he's hurting, and he needs all the support we can give him."_

Blaine had had enough.

He pushed the doors open.

The entire club was there, sans Schue, eyeing him nervously.

"Blaine," Rachel said. "We were just talking about you, and we want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all…" she hastily began to gather her things to offer Blaine her seat.

"Listen, Rachel, I appreciate that you're so worried about me, but I really wish you'd guys would understand that I'm fine. Really. I can take care of myself. I don't need to be chaperoned. I don't need to be baby-sat, and I certainly don't need anyone's pity."

And then he left.

"Blaine?" Will called out as soon as he saw him leave the classroom. "Finn, wanna see what's up?"

"I've got this y'all." Artie said and wheeled himself out of the room and down the hall to where he knew Blaine was headed.

The gym.

It felt good to hit something.

Blaine felt powerful, in control, and not helpless for perhaps the first time that day. For the first time since Kurt left after their fight, if he was honest.

He was just so angry.

He was mad at Kurt for being so ridiculous about the Warblers to begin with; mad at the people who took him; mad at his parents for the way they seemed actually happy that Kurt wasn't back yet; mad at Mercedes for actually thinking he was capable of it. Mad at the cops for not doing anything to help find him; mad at everyone else for trying to baby him.

That was a lot to be mad about.

"Yo, Blaine," Artie called after him.

And now he was mad at Artie for interrupting him.

"Not you too," Blaine said as he hit the punching bag with all his might with his right fist.

"Dude…I get it," Artie replied, but Blaine wasn't listening.

Kurt was stolen from him. His gorgeous, perfect boyfriend was ripped from his life and Blaine didn't know if he was ever coming back. He didn't even remember the last thing he said to Kurt, just the look on his face before he left, and he'd give anything to take that back. And now his parents were actually relieved that he wasn't a fixture in his life, because they didn't approve of Kurt, and he knew the people in New Directions meant well, but it's like they didn't even know how to talk to him without Kurt attached to his hip.

"Get what?" Blaine finally said after a moment's pause.

"People are treating you differently all of a sudden. Am I right?"

Blaine nodded.

"It's like all of a sudden, they don't know what to do with you."

"How'd you know?"

"People treated me kind of the same way right when I had my accident."

"I'm not paralyzed," Blaine said, sitting on the bench. "My boyfriend's missing."

"Yeah, you can walk still, but that doesn't mean you're not paralyzed."

"Look, Artie, I appreciate your concern, but I'm kinda busy here." He stood up and began to pummel the punching bag again with everything he had in him.

Artie grabbed the bag on one of its swings and held it just out of Blaine's reach.

"Let me finish. I feel you, brother. Your boyfriend—the one you transferred for to a school without the greatest track-record ever when it comes to tolerance—is missing. You almost lost an eye to protect him. It's always been Blaine and Kurt, Kurt and Blaine ever since I've known you. There's a reason I cast you guys as the old married couple in the Christmas special. Besides Mike and Tina, you two are like the most stable couple I know. And to top it all off, nobody knows how to act around you without him around."

"So…"

"People try to coddle you, act extra-nice towards you, treat you like they think you're about to break. Or worse, they act as though nothing happened and pretend to ignore what's right in front of their faces."

"Artie, if this is a pep-talk," he said, getting the punching bag back, "you kind of suck at it."

"Blaine-man, people treated me the same way when I first got my wheels. And I used to hate it, until I realized something."

"What's that?"

"People suck. Especially when it comes to things they don't understand."

"Yeah, found that one out a long time ago."

"Thing is. They suck, but they really do wanna help for the most part."

"You have more faith in humanity than I do, my friend," Blaine replied with a snort of laughter.

"Word of advice, yo? Don't let' em get to you. And seriously, I know we're not exactly besties, but if you ever need to talk, hit me up."

Blaine couldn't even look at Artie. If he looked up at his companion, Blaine was pretty sure that he would break down. Talking wasn't going to fix the situation. Talking wasn't going to help. Talking wasn't going to bring Kurt back. He knew from experience punching the bag wouldn't help, either, but at least it was a distraction. At least it was some kind of release.

"Would you mind telling everyone I just need some space?" He finally said after a beat.

"Sure thing," Artie replied.

Then Artie left, and Blaine was alone with the punching bag.


	13. Chapter 13

The barista at the Lima Bean gave him a sad smile, and Blaine knew that coming here was a bad idea. He'd seen her here before. She had one of those names that ended in 'y.'

He needed a pick-me-up for the ride home, though, and at least the coffee shop was sparsely populated.

"Your usual?" she asked. He nodded, and took a seat in an empty booth. He pulled out his wallet, but she waved a hand dismissing him. "It's on the house."

"Listen, I heard about what happened to Non-Fat Mocha," she said, stepping away from the counter and joining him in the booth. She took a deep breath as she hand him the coffee. "Look, I'm not…I don't want to pry. I just…I see you guys in here like all the time and then when I saw the news, I was like… 'Oh my GOD that's Medium Drip's Non-Fat Mocha guy!' And look…I just wanted to say…I was really glad when they said he wasn't really dead on the news this morning and…wow…I'm rambling. I should…just…" she whimpered. "Sorry to bother you…I'll just…I've got work. I should go."

"No, hey…thanks…" Blaine said, still kind of hating the fact that the reason she was talking to him at all was because of what happened to Kurt. But Artie was right, she _was _just trying to help.

"Hey Short-Stack," a familiar voice greeted from the door. He looked up and saw Santana there with Finn, making Blaine wish there was an easy exit. "Woah, not bolting! That's progress!"

She slid into the booth next to him, and Finn sat in the seat across from them.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry I bailed on rehearsal today. I just needed some privacy, you know?"

"I get it," Finn said. "Look, this past weekend has been hard on everyone. But seriously, dude? Skipping out of rehearsal two weeks before Regionals? Not cool."

"Did Rachel put you up to this?" Blaine asked, standing up and getting his things. "Because honestly, guys, I'm sorry I skipped out. It won't happen again. But right now, I just want to go home."

"Finn might be wrapped around Berry's little finger," Santana said, standing up to block Blaine's way out of the booth. "But me? No. Fucking. Way. You think you're doing Kurt any favors by being a douche-bag to everyone else?" Santana asked. "Look, Blanderson. I get it. I do. If Britt went missing, I'd probably be emo like a Tori Amos song, too, but seriously? Suck. It. Up."

"Also?" Finn piped up. "Rachel didn't ask me to come here. This whole thing was my idea. I thought Glee Club mattered to you. But apparently, Kurt is the only thing keeping you here, and if that's the case? You should just go back to your fancy school and join Sebastian at Dalton. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to have their old lead singer back."

"Well, speak of the devil," she purred. Blaine whipped his head around to see Sebastian breezing through the door. "In this case, literally."

"Shrek, Cruella, Blaine," Sebastian greeted, smiling in a way that was anything but friendly. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Actually, I was just leaving," Blaine said, but Sebastian blocked his path.

"By the bye, Blaine, I heard about your boy…and I _do_ use the term loosely…friend. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on…" he winked and Blaine fought every impulse he had not to punch him right then and there.

"Go back to hell where you belong," Santana spat.

"Blaine," Sebastian said, ignoring her. "I thought such riff-raff was beneath you."

"I'm kind of busy, Sebastian," Blaine said.

"I can see that. Look, just come with me, and I can take you away from all this."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Look, Blaine if this is still about the rock-salt thing, let me make it up to you. Scandals. You and me."

Sebastian put his hand on his shoulder, and Blaine shrugged it off hard enough for the sleeve to lift up, and that's when he saw it.

Three long, angry red scratches going down his wrist.

"Where'd you get those?"

"A little kitty gave me hell the other day."

"Must've been a hell of a cat-fight," he said, gripping his fingernails into the scratches.

"Yeah, well…at the moment, I'm still winning." If Sebastian was feeling any of the pain Blaine meant for him to feel, he certainly wasn't showing it.

"Somebody should say something about the health code in this place. Looks like we've got a rat here," Santana said with a glare.

Sebastian jerked his arm back. "I'm going, I'm going," he said, rubbing the injured area. "See you all at Regionals."

"What the hell was that about?" Finn asked.

"I think he did it," Blaine announced. "I think he's the one who took Kurt."

"Seriously? You're sure?" Finn asked.

"I saw scratches on his wrist. There was no way those were from a cat. Kurt left scratches on me just like that when…nevermind."

"So…what you're saying here is that you're the bottom?" Santana said with a wicked grin.

"We should go to the police," Finn suggested, apparently ignoring Santana's remark and getting out his cell phone. "We should…we have to do something."

Santana smacked it down on the table with a loud thwack. "And say what? Arrest Sebastian Smythe, son of the Assistant District Attorney because we know what human scratch-marks look like? We've got to give them more than that."

"I have to go after him," Finn announced, gathering his things again and getting up. "I can't just sit here and let him get away with this."

Like a shot, Finn was crawling over Santana in the booth and leaving the coffee shop, and Blaine and Santana followed him out.

"**Hey!"** Finn screamed, tearing after a black BMW sedan pulling out of the parking-lot. **"Where the fuck is my brother you son of a bitch?"**

* * *

><p>It was Tuesday, and Mike didn't understand how they still weren't any closer to getting Kurt back. It was impossible to even enter McKinley High's doors without Sue herding him as well as Tina and Mercedes past a hoard of reporters camping out at the main entrance.<p>

He didn't really know Kurt all that well, but he always refused to participate in any of the stuff the jocks tried to do to him, even before glee. He always respected the guy, though, and admired him for daring to be different in a place where it really wasn't okay to stand out.

Blaine, though? He was the closest thing Mike actually had to a best friend since Matt transferred, and he wanted to help the poor guy, but he had no clue how. He tried to fend off Jacob Ben-Israel the day before, because it was something he could actually do to help, but Blaine made it clear that he didn't want it, so he mostly just left Blaine alone.

Finally, though, it was time for glee, and Blaine asked if he could take the floor as soon as Schue officially began the rehearsal.

"Guys, as I'm sure you're all aware, the last few days have been maybe the hardest ever, but that was no excuse for the way I acted. You were trying to help, and I appreciate that…and…thanks for putting up with me."

"Blaine, as glee co-captain," Rachel piped up, "I can assure you, nobody's blaming you for venting. If I apologized for every time I stormed out…"

"We would've never had rehearsal, ever." Mercedes put in, which earned giggles from the rest of the group.

Puck's phone buzzed then, and he glanced over at Mike.

"Dude, Matt says your butt needs to hang up and says to call him. He wants to know what the fuck is going on."

Schue nodded, giving his permission, and with that, Mike left to call Matt.


	14. Chapter 14

Mike didn't even need to scroll down for Matt's number. He knew it by heart.

He didn't even say hello.

"_So I'm watching the news…" Matt began. _

"Let me guess, watching for Reds scores?"

"_Is there any other reason to watch the news? But back to the point. So I'm waiting for the sports segment, and there's this report on a missing kid, and normally, it's not the kind of thing that holds my attention, but then I look up…and it's the gay kid…Kurt. So you were going to tell me…when, exactly? Then I get butt-dialed, and some dude is apologizing. Since when does anyone apologize in Glee for anything?"_

"Good to hear from you, too, bro."

"_Oh no…you are not getting all touchy-feely on me now. Bring me up to speed."_

Mike sighed. "Finn called a Bro Meeting at his house late on Friday night. After the cops asked questions, Puck took Blaine (that's Apology Guy…Kurt's boyfriend) to the crime scene and they both spent the night in jail. Blaine (who's pretty much the nicest guy ever) blew up at us for looking out for him, so that's what he was apologizing for."

"_Dude. That's fucked up."_

Mike nodded as if Matt could see him. "I know. Blaine said he's pretty sure it's the head of the Warblers-"

"_Sebastian Smythe?" Matt interrupted._

"Yeah? Know him?"

"_That guy's trouble with a capital 'T.' He accidentally…and I'm using air-quotations here…tripped up our lead singer at an invitational and he's still in traction. Mike, if it is him, this isn't good."_

"I know."

"_So what are we going to do?"_

"Matt, there's nothing to do. We just have to wait for the cops to figure it out."

"No, man. Listen, I have an idea. His aunt lives in town, and she's been down in Florida for the summer, and I go past her house to school every day. Dude…the lights are on, there were two cars parked out front and I don't think Ms. Smythe drives a beat-up pick-up truck."

"That could mean anything."

"_Yeah, but it could mean something. What if I swing by and poke around?"_

"Matt, seriously. Don't get into any trouble over us."

"_I won't get into any trouble. Besides, I meant what I said to Mr. Schue a couple of years ago on the last day that one year. Because of New Directions, I joined the Glee Club here, and it's pretty tight. I owe you guys."_

* * *

><p>Carole didn't know how many calls they'd all gotten from reporters and from random people since this whole thing began. She couldn't go anywhere without being accosted by a swarm of blinking cameras and reporters shoving microphones in her face. She was beginning to understand why Brittney Spears shaved her head, because it was enough to drive anyone crazy.<p>

Finn asked Burt if they could disconnect the phone, especially after a call at two in the morning woke them all up, but then Burt realized that if they disconnected it, Kurt wouldn't have any way to call home if he needed to, so the endless barrage of phone calls continued, and Carole purchased earplugs for them all the next day.

Nobody in the Hudson-Hummel household needed to discuss what to say to the press. Burt already had enough of reporters with his election, and wanted no part in the media circus. Finn certainly didn't want any part in it, either, and Carole just wanted to be able to run her errands and go to work in peace again.

They'd gotten offers for interviews from nearly every major network, most of them offering to pay thousands of dollars to each of them for the rights to air their story, but Burt's answer was always a resounding 'No.'

LeRoy Berry, who was a publicist for local politicians in Lima, had offered to be the family spokesperson when Rachel told him the press was camped out in front of the school the first day of the week. Even though Burt didn't want anything to do with the press, he agreed, just so he didn't have to worry about fielding every single question himself.

There were more pressing things on his mind.

Kurt had been missing for almost a week when he got a call from LeRoy.

"_I know that the last thing you want to do is invite the press,"_ LeRoy began. _"But I got a call from an associate producer today," he began._

Burt rolled his eyes and steeled himself to say no, because he could see where this was headed. LeRoy was going to tell him someone else wanted an interview.

"LeRoy, look, I appreciate you taking on the press for us, but if you're trying to change my mind about this, I think you're fired."

"_You can't fire me. We're practically in-laws. It's bad luck to fire the in-law before the wedding."_

"Look, LeRoy, I appreciate what you're doing for us, but this is non-negotiable. I told you, anyone calls from any damn show, I don't care what it is, tell them no thanks."

"_Burt, I think it might not be a bad idea."_

"You know how much I got offered to be on Nancy Grace? It would've been enough to take Carole on that honeymoon to Waikiki for a month in a four-star hotel. And fly both of us first-class. But honestly, LeRoy? Making money from something because my son was kidnapped? Because someone is hurting my kid as we speak? I just can't do it."

"_So what if you did an interview for free?" LeRoy reasoned. "What if you did it to call whoever's responsible out for what they did to Kurt? You'd have a national audience. Someone watching it might grow a conscience and come forward if they know something. It might be enough to give the police a lead, which as far as I know they haven't had one all week."_

"So long as it's not someone from the Fox network. Kurt would never let me live that one down."

"_The assistant-producer was from Anderson Cooper," he said with a chuckle._

"Kurt'll kill me if I don't get his autograph."

* * *

><p>Contrary to popular belief, Detective Delia Lebowski really did want to find Kurt Hummel. The more unharmed the better, but she knew that as the days drained into weeks, his chances weren't good.<p>

And the press certainly wasn't helping matters.

She understood why they were critical of her and the Lima Police Department. If she were on the outside looking in, she'd have choice words for herself and Gilnitz, too, but the truth of the matter was, there honestly wasn't much to go on.

They had nothing but witness testimony, and until they got more than that, there really wasn't anything she could do.

Gilnitz was out at the moment trying to obtain a warrant from a judge so they could have access to Sebastian Smythe's financial records, but until they had that, all Lebowski could do was twiddle her thumbs and field phone calls from angry reporters and even angrier parents, friends and family members.

"No, Mr. Hummel. Blaine Anderson is no longer a suspect in our investigation," Delia Lebowski said as she sighed into the phone. "Look, we're…I'm doing everything I can, but the truth is, there's not much to go on." There was a pause. "We're looking into other avenues."

She waved her partner in as he held up an envelope and mouthed 'Warrant.'

She grinned. "So those avenues I mentioned? We're about to go down one. I'll call you as soon as there's progress. I promise."

Finally, after almost a week of nothing, they were getting somewhere.


	15. Chapter 15

"Congressman Burt Hummel has recently found himself in the middle of every parent's worst nightmare. Two weeks ago now, he discovered that his son was missing. A friend and boyfriend have been questioned in the investigation, but so far, the investigation into his disappearance has come to a virtual stand-still. Congressman, thank you for being here tonight."

"Enough with the Congressman crap. I can say crap on TV now, right? Call me Burt."

"Burt, thank you for coming on our show tonight. Tell us about your son."

Burt sighed. "When he was eight, we lost his mom. For a long time, it was just him and me. I didn't know the first thing bout raising kids, and more often than not, it was him lookin' after me instead of the other way around. You should be proud of your kid if you're their parent, even if they're not much to be proud of, but Kurt…he's the kind of kid who's easy to be proud of. Honor roll student, voice like you wouldn't believe (and that's not just me as his dad talkin', he's a finalist for NYADA) and I didn't…don't…always understand him, and God knows he's not perfect, 'cause who is, right? But he's smart and brave and kind and compassionate, which I'm pretty sure he got from his mother 'cause I sure as hell am none of those things."

"Tell us about the night you found out he was kidnapped."

"I was just getting out of a late session when my wife called and said the cops had just left. They told her his car had been found wrecked and abandoned on the highway. From what I understand, my son…I mean my step-son…Finn thought that maybe he was with his boyfriend. So he called Blaine (the boyfriend) to see if Kurt was with him. That's when they realized something was wrong. Then they called me."

"And you couldn't go home right away, is this correct?"

"No, I couldn't. The irony is, if it weren't for Kurt, I wouldn't even be in Washington in the first place. But I was stuck because the Constitution wouldn't let me leave without getting approval for a leave of absence first."

"Which brings me to my next question. You've garnered some ire lately amongst conservatives for your staunch and outspoken beliefs regarding the gay marriage issue. Do you think this act is due to your political beliefs?"

"Well, it definitely isn't about me defending the arts, that's for damn sure. I don't know. If this happened because of something I said or did, I don't think I could ever live with myself."

"Do you think the police initially had it right when they questioned Blaine Anderson and Noah Puckerman?"

"Look, I get that the police were just going with what they had at the time, which wasn't much, but Blaine's a good kid. The idea that he'd do anything to Kurt is crazy. I don't think Noah Puckerman has anything to do with it, either. I've known the Puckerman kid for a while now. He's a bit of a screw-up, but so was I before I met Kurt's mom."

"What about David Karofsky? I understand that this individual threatened your son in the past."

"Yes, he did. I'd believe the Karofsky kid had something to do with this before I'd believe Blaine did. But they tell me he's in the clear, so…" Burt shrugged.

"I understand you've been going down to the police department every day to check up on the progress of your son's case."

Burt nodded. "Sometimes twice."

"If he's watching, do you have a message for Kurt or for the people responsible for what's happened to him if they're watching?"

"Kurt, hang in there kiddo. The cavalry's comin'. The people at home who love you are turning over every rock we can. I'm not giving up until you come home. To the creeps who did this: I don't care who you are, or why you did it. I just want my boy back where he belongs. You're gonna pay for what you did. I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure of that."

"Burt, thank you for coming on tonight. I know you're anxious to get back to your family. I hope Kurt comes home safe and sound."

* * *

><p>In Lebowski's experience, suspects were usually nervous when they were brought in. Sometimes they were cocky, sometimes they fidgeted and couldn't look either her or Gilnitz in the eye. But not this time. Sebastian Smythe actually looked calm as Lebowski lead him to the car, and didn't say a word on the way to the precinct, and just watched he scenery.<p>

In fact, if she didn't know any better, Lebowski thought he actually seemed smug, and she wanted nothing more in the world in that moment than to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Sebastian," she greeted as she threw his file on the table.

"Well, if it isn't Scully and Mulder," he leered. "Tell me, which one of you is good cop and which one of you is bad cop?" He grinned suggestively at Lebowski. "I'm not on your team, like at all. But I really hope it's you."

"Is that a threat?" Gilnitz said in a low and dangerous tone. "I really hope it is."

"Oh not at all! Threatening an officer of the law would be against the law."

"Speaking of things that would be against the law," Lebowski said, slamming a picture of Kurt on the table. "What do you know about the disappearance of Kurt Hummel?"

Sebastian said nothing, and kept his gaze steady.

"I can play this staring game all night," Lebowski said. "This will go a lot faster if you just come clean."

"Come clean with what?" Sebastian said with mock-innocence.

"Come on you little punk," Gilnitz said. He opened the file and slammed the photocopy of the receipt for the bar tab on the table. "We've got you in a bar with a guy who's DNA was found at the crime scene. We can charge you with underage drinking and let you sweat it out in jail with guys who eat pretty boys like you for breakfast."

"Oh my God," Sebastian said, laughing. "You're priceless. Price. Less. You're taking lessons from _CSI: Miami marathons_, aren't you? Now, if you're done, are you actually charging me with anything? Because if you actually had anything, you would've charged me a long time ago."

"Just tell us what happened," Lebowski said. "Is Kurt alive?"

"Well, gosh, it would be a darn shame if he wasn't, what with the press so concerned with his whereabouts right now, wouldn't it?"

"The press has nothing to do with it," Lebowski fired back. "You're here because we have evidence that you've got something to do with Kurt Hummel's disappearance. Now," she said, close enough that she could smell the Caesar salad he had for dinner. "Where. Is. He?"

"You know, maybe that's just one of those mysteries that will never be solved. Like who turns the light on the refrigerator."

Lebowski just lowered her gaze at him.

"Hey Lebowski," Gilnitz said. "This guy's a funny one. Think his sense of humor will serve him well in jail?"

"We've got enough evidence to bring charges up against you," Lebwoski lied, ignoring her partner completely. "The way I see it, this can go one of two ways. You can either tell us everything we know right now and I'll put a good word in for you."

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," Sebastian said. "So are you actually going to arrest me, or am I free to go?"

"Tell you what," Lebowski said, jumping up out of her seat and pulling Sebastian up out of his. "We're going to let you sweat it out in the holding cell for twenty-four hours. Maybe that'll change your mind."

"If you're arresting me, I'd like to invoke my right to an attorney," Sebastian rushed out. It was the first time Sebastian showed any sign of nerves, and Lebwoski relished it. "You've got nothing and I know it!"

"Maybe not at the moment, but I know you're behind this," Lebwoski seethed. "Something, somewhere will prove it, and when it does, I will relish the memory of putting you behind bars where you belong for as long as I live, and you'd better pray to every god that exists that Kurt Hummel's still alive, because if he's dead? I'm going to be the one who puts the needle in your arm you bastard."


	16. Chapter 16

New Directions rehearsal had been supremely unproductive over the next several days.

"So that conversation you had the other day with your old bestie was actually two-sided?" Santana sneered. "I didn't even know Special Needs could carry on a conversation."

"Santana, really?" Tina put in. "Could you maybe not…be you, for two seconds?"

"What? The guy said like two words the whole year he was here. Just seems like Tall Dark and Silent got a lot more talkative all of a sudden. It was a whole year before I could tell him apart from Mike."

"But they are different races!" Quinn protested.

Santana just shrugged.

Tina just glared, and Mike let out a weary sigh.

"So I have news," Mike said finally. "And he said that the Warblers were their competition in their Sectional competition and he pretty much sent their lead singer down the stairs and the dude's still in traction."

"The guy's an evil psychopath. And this is news to anyone because…" Artie said.

"That's not the news. The news is Matt lives in the same town with Sebastian's aunt, who has a winter home in Fort Wayne."

"I don't get it. What does that have to do with anything?" Finn asked.

"He says there's been people living in her house even though she's out of town for the winter and he thinks he's seen Sebastian in town lately and…" he took a deep breath. "He's going to check it out."

Puck stood up. "I say we go pay those Garglers a visit. We all go and teach that slimy little weasel a lesson. New Directions Style, and I don't mean another Michael Jackson sing-off. Who's with me?"

Schue moved to block the door as soon as the New Directions boys moved to follow Puck out.

"No!" Schue demanded. "Look, I know we all want Kurt back, but this is not the answer. We don't even have proof yet that Sebastian is the one who did this. I know it's hard, but we just have to wait for the police to do their jobs."

Sue took over then. "For once, I'm agreeing with Mr. Rogers. Regionals is this weekend. We are going to wish Sebastian and the Warblers well. We are going to be civil, and if I hear that any of you have gone to Dalton and laid a hand on any Warbler or anyone else for that matter, I am personally going to see to it that you will be singing a different range for Nationals should we win. Is that clear? Now. Opening number positions everyone!"

Grudgingly, everyone stood up to take their places, but nobody felt like singing or dancing.

* * *

><p><em>1949 Tony Award Winner for Best Musical, 'Kiss Me Kate,' 1950, 'South Pacific.' 1951, 'Guys and Dolls,' 1952, 'The King and I,' 1953, 'Wonderful Town,' 1954, 'Kismet,' 1955, 'The Pajama Game,' 1956, 'Damn Yankees,' 1957, 'My Fair Lady,' 1958, 'The Music Man,' 1959…1959…<em>

"Shit, what was the Tony Award winner for the 1959 Best Musical?" Kurt said into the darkness.

It didn't really surprise him that his voice had grown hoarse. He'd noticed that after he lost consciousness the second time after his ill-fated escape.

He'd lost a lot of things since he'd become Sebastian's prisoner.

He'd lost several patches of skin due to bed sores from the mattress he was left on in addition to the chains that were around his wrists and ankles.

He'd lost all sense of time. If anyone asked him how long he'd been down there, Kurt couldn't say, except that the goons had fed him ten peanut butter sandwiches and let him go to the bathroom ten times.

He swore when he got back home, he was going to ban peanut butter from the house, and possibly bread. Finn and his dad would just have to deal.

He'd lost almost all his muscle definition, and bathing was simply a luxury he wasn't allowed. When he got out of this, his muscles were going to be nearly atrophied and his hair was a greasy disaster and he hadn't moisturized in what felt like months. If he made it out of this, even without the fight, if Blaine wanted to be near him in this state, it would be a small miracle.

He knew it was silly to miss his skin-care routine. Of course he missed more important things than that. He missed his family, especially his dad. He missed Blaine. He missed school, actually _missed_ it for the first time he could remember. He missed is friends. He wondered what kind of New Directions gossip Mercedes would have to catch him up on if he made it out of this.

Not if. _When_ he made it out of this.

He _was_ getting out of this. He had to believe that. It was the only way he _could_ fight now.

He couldn't fight with words anymore, he couldn't fight with his hands or feet or teeth. He learned the hard way that fighting didn't pay off and he was worried if he angered the goons enough they actually would kill him.

It was against Kurt's nature to not fight back. That was against everything life had ever taught him.

His brain was the only muscle he had any control over. It was the only thing he couldn't allow to atrophy, because if he didn't, he was going to turn into a bigger idiot than Rick the Stick.

And he couldn't let that happen.

* * *

><p>Most people were uncertain of their future, but Rachel Berry had never been one of them.<p>

She knew what the world would look like for her ten years from now. She'd be staring in her first musical, up for her first Tony Award nomination. She'd get there because finally all those years of hard work would pay off. Years of voice lessons and dance lessons were finally coming to fruition, and everything she and her dads had sacrificed would've finally been worth it.

She knew people thought she was a pain. She knew she went a little too far sometimes in the name of a solo. She knew that she made a few enemies because of her determination. Once upon a time, Kurt was on that list.

Kind of ironic, then, that Kurt was the one keeping her from her dreams now.

Ever since Kurt disappeared, it was difficult for her to concentrate on anything but the news, hoping for anything about her best friend's whereabouts. Since getting a good night's sleep was the first step to good voice-training, she was always in bed by ten o'clock at night, but hadn't slept at all in the last couple of weeks hoping against hope that her dads would wake her up to let her know he'd been found and that everything was going to be okay.

She thought that paparazzi following her around would be a dream come true, but by the end of the first day of it, she was glad that she was headed for Broadway, not Hollywood, because Broadway stars just didn't get the paparazzi treatment the way movie stars did. The constant phone calls and shoving microphones in her face every time she came or left school grounds was a huge nuisance.

But Rachel could deal with that. What Rachel couldn't deal with, though, was how quiet New Directions practice had become. Blaine hadn't said more than two words to anyone since his apology, and she felt Finn pulling away from her, too. Normally, Mr. Schue had a hard time getting the group to be quiet, but now, he was having a difficult time getting the group to say anything, even sing. Nobody in New Directions put any energy into rehearsals despite the fact that Regionals was coming up, but Rachel couldn't even find it in herself to call them out on it, because she was, too.

So she was as surprised as they all were when they actually won Regionals, despite the fact that they were lacking one of their strongest singers. Rachel was even more surprised that the entirety of New Directions showed remarkable restraint against Sebastian, even though they all knew he was somehow behind it.

But it was a hollow victory, because Kurt wasn't with them to share in it.

At home, her fathers were constantly on the phone, instead of dinner at the dining room table and evening sing-a-longs, they ate dinner in the living room on TV trays with the news blaring, pouring over papers or their laptops, doing whatever they could on Kurt's family's behalf.

She was so distracted, in fact, that it wasn't until she was marking down a test-date that she realized there were only a few days left until the NYADA audition.

And they were still no closer to finding Kurt than they were when he disappeared.

This was wrong. Kurt had worked almost as hard as she had, and if he wasn't back in time, everything he'd worked for was going to slip through his fingers. Worse still, she was going to be alone in New York, and she was glad that she had _Don't Rain on My Parade_ in her pocket as a go-to audition piece, because if she hadn't, she knew that her dream was dead, too.

And everywhere she looked was a reminder that Kurt was missing

Finally, the day of the audition came.

Rachel knew Finn would be there, cheering her on, but was surprised to find Blaine slipping in to one of the seats. She offered him a small smile and gave herself a mental note to thank him later.

"I can't do this," Rachel whimpered. "Not without Kurt. It's not fair!"

Finn shook his head. "No, it's not. But Rachel, that lady came all this way just to hear you sing, and this is everything you've ever worked for. You need this. You have to. And for what it's worth, I think Kurt would hate it if he knew he was the one getting in the way of your dream, because it's the same as yours."

"Kurt Hummel," bellowed a deep female voice, and Rachel's heart twisted in her chest, and she knew what she had to do.

"Miss Thibodeaux?"

"Unless Mr. Hummel has recently undergone a sex-change operation, I highly doubt that you are he," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"N-n-no, I'm not. I don't know if you've been watching the news lately, but Kurt couldn't be here today."

"I'm a very busy woman and although I'd like to say that I've got time to keep up with the latest headlines of a town I've never been to before today, nor even heard of before I was aware that two students who were auditioning for me called this town home, I'm sorry to say, I don't."

"Ma'am, Kurt's recently made national headlines. His dad's a Congressman, and he went missing two weeks ago. Nobody knows where he is, or if he's even still alive," she paused to give Blaine a sympathetic look when she heard him hitching a breath from his spot in the audience.

"Young lady, are you telling me that Mr. Hummel isn't hear today?"

Rachel nodded. "I was just…w-w-wondering. When he comes back, is there any way you could hear his audition? He once sang four hours of Celine Dion in French, and he has a range that's almost as high as mine, and he works every bit as hard as I do and given the press he's gotten, I just know it'd be a great boon to NYADA to have him in your class. So when he comes back…if he comes back (she paused to glance at Blaine again) just give him a chance. Please? I know you won't be sorry."

"Do you have any idea how many hopefuls audition for this school each year? Thousands. I am sorry to learn of Mr. Hummel's plight, but circumstances aside, the fact remains that he did not come to his audition. I have to take it as a forfeit and move on. He can apply again next year."

Rachel's face fell and every doubt, every insecurity she ever had settled in like a thick fog.

"Your name, young lady?" Miss Thibodeaux prompted.

"Rachel Berry," she said. "I'm the other audition you came to see today."

"So it would seem," Miss Thibodeaux said. "Care to start any time soon?"

Rachel took a deep breath.

It was horrible what happened to Kurt, but she couldn't—wouldn't—let it stand in the way of everything she'd worked for. Finn was right. Kurt wouldn't have wanted that.

She nodded at the band and hoped that as soon as she started, the adrenaline would kick in like it always does and the doubt would melt away.

The first few bars began, and all she could think was that Kurt was missing this. That Kurt should be here. It wasn't fair. NYADA was his dream as much as it was hers, and they'd planned their tiny apartment down to the last throw pillow, and Rachel needed him there with her.

But the bars began, and she had to do this.

_Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter_

_Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter_

_Don't bring around a cloud don't rain on my parade_

This was what she was born to do. She had this.

But it wasn't the right words. It wasn't the right verse.

She'd messed up.

She started again, but this time, it was worse.

She'd failed.

She pled for another chance, but Miss Thibodeaux said she'd already given her one and that she'd already been too generous with her time.

And the worst part? She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd let Kurt down, too.


	17. Chapter 17

Kurt had been missing for over two weeks.

More precisely, he'd been missing for eighteen days, and thirteen hours.

The worst part of it was, before Kurt was in his life, he thought he was independent and fine being on his own. His parents saw to that. But so much for independence. Blaine was already having a hard time with the idea of him leaving before the whole thing happened. And now? He'd disintegrated into half a person, just going through the motions only because he had to.

Blaine's parents, as always, didn't care. His mother mentioned last week that there was something on TV with Kurt's father, but Blaine couldn't stand to watch. He must've picked up the phone to call Burt for what seemed like a million times, but every time, he hung up.

After all, what good would that accomplish?

Blaine tried to play along at first, but it was just too hard. He was being a first-rate ass-hat to everyone and he knew it, but he just didn't have the energy to do more than sing along in the background and get through the day.

He took to eating lunch in the choir room, because while he hated that everyone was walking around egg shells around him at first, he hated it even more that everyone (with the exception of possibly Rachel, Finn and Mercedes) was pretty much back to normal.

He'd always understood why Kurt felt the need to find a safe haven when things got really horrible with Karofsky last year. Now, though? No wonder he felt like those people wouldn't protect him. Did Blaine expect them to all to ignore their lives and act as devastated as he was feeling? No. But nobody asked Finn anymore about the latest updates. All anyone wanted to talk about was SATs, Nationals coming up and Prom.

All of which Kurt would miss if he wasn't found soon.

The choir room had never been the safe haven for him that it was for Kurt, but it was the best place to hide, so he came there for sanctuary and just put in his earphones and would sing and play to whatever sad, pathetic song was playing on his ipod.

Today it was Dido.

_I didn't hear you leave _

_I wonder how am I still here_

_I don't want to move a thing _

_It might change my memory_

_Oh I am what I am _

_I'll do what I want but I can't hide_

_I won't go I won't sleep_

_I can't breathe until you're resting here with me_

_I won't leave I can't hide_

_I cannot be until you're resting here with me_

_I don't want to call my friends _

_They might wake me from this dream_

_And I can't leave this bed,_

_Risk forgetting all that's been_

_Oh I am what I am_

_I'll do what I want,_

_But I can't hide_

_I won't go, I won't sleep,_

_I can't breathe,_

_Until you're resting here with me_

_I won't leave, I can't hide,_

_I cannot be until you're resting here with me_

He knew lunch-period was going to be over soon, but he didn't care. He hadn't even really cried yet over Kurt's disappearance because if he was crying, it meant Kurt really was gone, and Blaine was the master of denial.

"Blaine," Mr. Schuester's voice startled him.

"I'll, uh…just get my things." he said with a sniffle.

Mr. Schuester dragged a chair across the floor and placed it next to the piano. "Actually, I'm glad I caught you. There's actually something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"I'm…concerned," Mr. Schue continued. "You used to sing solos all the time, you seemed to start to get along pretty well with the other guys before Kurt disappeared, and now, you're just kind of…in the background. You've never really struck me as a background kind of guy."

"Yeah, well…maybe I'm one now."

"We need everyone giving one hundred and ten percent for Nationals, Blaine…" Mr. Schue began. Blaine's shoulder's sagged with a sigh in response.

"Is that what you're worried about? Nationals?"

"I know you're worried about Kurt. We're all worried about Kurt. This is a horrible thing that's happened and I wouldn't wish it on anybody, but Blaine, have you ever considered that maybe it's a good thing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe I didn't phrase that the best way. I'd never want any of my students to be harmed in any way, but…what I meant was, you do realize you're going to be here without him next year whether he comes back or not, right?"

"Wow," Blaine finally said after a long beat of silence. "Just…wow. Kurt always said you were a self-involved, self-absorbed, truckling sycophant (my words. His were much more r-rated). When I first got here, I just thought he was being a little harsh. Now though? I think he was pretty much on the money."

"Why would he…"

"Say that about you? Oh, I don't know. Maybe because when he needed you the most last year when the Karofsky situation got out of hand, I told him he should go to you for help. Only, it turned out to be pretty much the worst advice ever, because I didn't know that you weren't going to lift a finger to help. And now he's in actual trouble. Real trouble. And all you care about is winning a competition?"

"Legally, I couldn't do anything about the Karofsky situation because I have to see it happen before I can report anything," Mr. Schue said defensively. "I took him to the principal's office, but in the end, there was still nothing that could be done. Blaine, you're clearly upset right now and you're under a lot of stress. Maybe it's time to think about talking with Ms. Pillsbury?"

"Your fiancé is not a qualified therapist, Mr. Schue. My boyfriend's missing. Maybe worse. And all you're worried about is a dumb trophy? I don't think a conversation's going to help."

"Fine," Mr. Schue said, standing up, jaw clenching in apparent frustration. "Want to sulk and wallow? That's up to you, Blaine. But your friends just want to help and frankly, your attitude lately leaves a lot to be desired."

"Don't like my attitude? You won't have to put up with it. Or me. Ever again," Blaine seethed. With that, he stormed out, swinging the choir room door behind him.

* * *

><p>Sebastian couldn't say that he'd pick the Allen County Jailhouse for his next weekend get-a-way, but all in all, it wasn't terrible. He would've rather had cleaner accommodations and it would've been nice to have a toilet that wasn't being mostly occupied by a drunk, but he couldn't exactly pick his company.<p>

Nonetheless, it was good to smell the fresh air again. It was even better still to know for certain what he'd always expected: that all the cops had on him was superficial evidence and even though he'd have to be careful from here on out, the only snag in the plan was that New Directions won Regionals despite missing one of their key performers and because of that, The Warblers unanimously voted to reinstate the council after the loss.

That, and there was no way that he was going to get Blaine into his bed now that Blaine figured it out.

Okay, so technically, that was two snags.

Still, though, not all was fruitless. The ball was still in his court, and even though Naitonals were a wash, he still had all the power in this situation.

Those two idiot cops were still on his tale, though, and he'd have to be careful

But it was easy enough to loose them. All he had to do was hire a body-double as a decoy and borrow and underclassman's car and make his way to Indiana while they weren't looking.

This was becoming an expensive venture; one that was going to have to end soon if Sebastian was going to get away with it. If he couldn't have Blaine, he could at least make it so Kurt wouldn't want him if he were the last guy on earth by the time it was all said and done.

It was nightfall by the time Sebastian was finally able to make it to Indiana.

Sebastian hadn't come for a visit for awhile, and wasn't pleased to see the people he was paying to watch Kurt sound asleep on the couch.

"You're supposed to be taking shifts! Not getting comfy!" Sebastian barked.

"It's not like he's actually goin' anywhere," one of the goons replied (Sebastian never bothered to learn their names).

"For all our sakes' you'd better hope not! If he gets free the first thing he's going to do is report us to the police and I just got out of twenty-four hour lock-up!"

"Yeah, well, I still say we're better off killin' 'im if we don't want that to happen. I don't like cleanin' up a body, but you know we can always leave him out in the woods. Make it look like an animal did it or somethin'."

"No, gentlemen. We're not killing him."

"Give me one good reason not to."

"Because if Richard Simmons down there is dead, all we get is the book thrown at us. Well, you. I'll be in Bora-Bora. Our little prisoner's dad is a Congressman. That means that on top of what he pulls in, he makes seventy-five thousand a year. Which means he's got money to burn. And it is not cheap to run for Congress. You've got to have money to run a campaign."

"So get your ransom money so we can get the hell on with our lives. That kid's annoying as hell."

"I've got something to do first. And I'll make sure you two get a cut. Just do me a favor, and call my cell phone in about five minutes."

"What for?"

"Just do it!"

With that, he fished his key to the basement out of his pocket and opened the basement door.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kurt rasped as soon as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Just wanted to check on my guest, make sure he's comfortable."

"Cut the crap, Sebastian. What the hell is this all about."

"I just wanted to tell you that your team beat us at Regionals. Turns out, you didn't make any difference at all."

"If this was about winning Regionals, you should've kidnapped Rachel. She's the one New Directions can't win without."

"Regionals was only a piece of the puzzle. Mostly, though? It's just way too much fun making you miserable."

"Well, mission accomplished. Can we just get these chains off of me and I can go home, and we can just go on with our lives as if nothing happened?"

"Well, I would, Liberace, but I'm not done with you yet."

"Come on, you've had your fun…let me…"

The cell phone vibrated in Sebastian's pocket.

"Blainey-bear!" Sebastian greeted.

Kurt laughed. "Seriously? Blainey-bear? Blaine hates pet-names."

"Last night was absolutely amazing. But you must've been distracted…" he dug into his pocket and swung it in front of Kurt, whose eyes widened.

"He would've never left that behind..." Kurt mumbled.

"Meet you for coffee later? Okay, Babe." He hung up.

"You're insane if you think I actually believe Blaine would ever go near you with a ten foot poll."

"Why, because you're so hard to get over? Oh, Kurt."

Then he showed Kurt a picture of Blaine in an unfamiliar bed half-dressed.

"I'm familiar with your photo-shop skills, Sebastian. This is better than the one you did with Finn, but that's not saying much."

"I can see why you'd be so traumatized. That boy is quite a catch. And the things he can do with his tongue…"

"Sebastian, just stop it! Now! You actually thought I'd buy that just because you stole his pocket-watch and photoshopped another picture? That you actually thought this plan of yours would work?"

It'd been so long since Kurt had fought back. He knew it never lead to anything good, but he also knew he was the one making Sebastian squirm now, and for the first time since this whole thing began, something like hope filled his chest.

The feeling was short-lived though. It died with the click of the safety of the revolver Sebastian pulled from his coat pocket.

"Who's pathetic now, huh?" Sebastian taunted.

"Sebastian," Kurt begged. "D-d-don't do this. Please! Don't do this! I know you're not a good person, but you're not a killer. You w-w-would've killed me long before now if you were."

"Watch me," Sebastain glowered.

"You don't have the balls," Kurt said in a tone with much more confidence than he felt.

"Say that again," Sebastian dared.

Kurt closed his eyes as he heard something click.

He could feel the open end of the pistol shaking against his forehead.

"Please…" Kurt begged one more time.

Nothing happened.

"You're lucky you're worth more alive than dead," Sebastian hissed. Kurt tried to fight against the brunt end of the weapon, but there was no way to duck out of the way.

One crack of the pistol's blunt end and his vision was blurred. With another, total darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

The Hudson-Hummel house had never been so quiet for so long.

This was largely because Kurt almost always had either Blaine or the New Directions girls over, and Finn usually had Rachel or the guys. Now, though, Finn stayed up in his room, only coming down for dinner, and then, it was so _weird_, sitting at the table next to the empty chair where Kurt would've occupied.

Burt never talked anymore unless he was asked a question. It wasn't like Burt was ever the most talkative guy in the world, but there'd be times when Burt would just stare at the door to Kurt's room from the bottom of the stares, and Finn was glad that Burt worked late at the garage a lot these days. It was just hard being around him. Finn never knew what to say.

"Have you talked to Blaine?" Carole asked Finn at dinner one night. Burt, once again, had to work late.

Finn just shrugged. "He quit, so…"

"Poor thing! Any idea why?"

Finn shook his head as he shoveled another bite of shepherd's pie in his mouth. "Mr. Schue wouldn't say, and Blaine really won't talk to any of us."

"Well after dinner, I'm giving his mother a call to make sure he's okay."

"Mom!" Finn protested. "He's fine!"

Carole opened her mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang.

"What in the world?"

The silver-wear clinked as she set it on her plate. She opened the door. It was a large brown envelope, the kind that's closed with a metal clasp.

There was something wet inside, which was beginning to leak out.

Blood.

"Oh God…" Carole breathed. She opened it, and let out a blood-curdling scream that would haunt Finn for years to come.

Finn dug his phone out of his pocket and it took him a few minutes to realize what it was.

But when he did, it was enough to make him throw up his dinner all over the front porch.

It was a heart. A smelly, oozing, bloody heart.

"Oh God. You think that's Kurt's?" Finn asked in a small voice that didn't sound like his own.

Carole shook her head. "I don't…I don't know. Just go inside and dial 9-1-1 okay?"

* * *

><p>During the short time he was with them, Matt Rutherford learned a lot from New Directions. Okay, so it was mostly how to put up with crazy people and their drama (headphones so he couldn't even hear the gossip helped a great deal to that end). Still, it was a skill that proved handy with his new glee club. He also learned a bit more than he wanted to about breaking and entering (among other illegal activities) just by virtue of being friends with Puck.<p>

The key to successful breaking and entering, of course, was not getting caught.

This was difficult to achieve with a house that always seemed to be occupied.

The house itself was a relatively small two-story house. Matt would've liked his odds better if it were just one, and the fact that it was small (at least from the outside) meant that there were fewer places to stash someone away. It also meant less places for him to hide if he needed to.

So he had to be very careful about when to take his chance.

For three days, Matt sat in his truck across the street from the residence of Minnie Smythe and just watched and waited for a chance, but no chance came. He took blurry pictures on his cell phone of the house, of the beat-up white van parked in front, and one of the license plate, praying that nobody would spot him, but apparently, whoever was in the house had no interest in looking out their windows, and for that, Matt was grateful.

Matt was about to call Mike to tell him that it was all a wash when it happened. A short, chubby bald man who looked like he was straight out of a mob movie exited the house and got in the van and drove off, and although Matt had been watching long enough to know that there were two guys in the house, he was fairly certain that it would be easier to remain hidden from only one of the goons.

So he got out of his own truck, didn't even bother closing the door to avoid making a sound (it was the middle of nowhere, and he had nothing but an old radio to steal from his ten-year-old truck anyway) and crept up to the front of the house and peered inside.

Heart pounding, he managed to get to open one of them, and a glance inside showed him that there was a television blaring, which was another good sign. Television blaring meant a distraction, and distractions were a definite plus.

Holding his breath, he cautiously stood up, careful not to make as much noise as possible against the shrubbery around the edges of the house. In retrospect, he probably should've tried the door, but he knew he couldn't risk the person inside seeing the door being open. So he took his chances with the only window that wasn't blocked by furniture. There was a table with knick-knacks on it directly below the window's ledge on the inside, and he bumped something, which shattered on the floor.

Matt winced at the sound, and his heart leapt into his throat as he heard a shout of "What the hell?" from somewhere inside.

Every instinct Matt had told him that he needed to run. That if he got caught, it could go so, so unbelievably badly, especially if the person inside had a gun, but he did not sit in his truck until his butt fell asleep for three days just so he could get caught breaking and entering. It wasn't like the guy inside who was possibly committing a criminal act would call the cops, but still, it wasn't going end well.

Quick like lightening, he managed to hide in a coat closet. He held his breath as the man drew his gun, and as quietly as possible, he hid behind the coats that were hanging.

"Who's here?" a voice barked. A gun clicked and Matt swallowed. "Someone's here and I know it wasn't a fucking raccoon who got that window open. Come on. Face the consequences like a man."

Matt held his breath as the door actually opened, and the guy glanced inside. Matt was far enough behind the coats though, and Matt thanked his lucky stars that it was only a quick glance.

"Come out, come out wherever you are! I ain't gonna call the cops. I just wanna have a little conversation so we have an understanding. The barrel of my gun wants to say hello."

He moved on, and Matt heaved a sigh of relief.

The faint sounds of a cell phone ring-tone sounded, and the goon seemed to debate as the ringtone continued to repeat.

"We ain't finished, punk!" the goon said into thin air.

He answered the phone.

"I told you not to call me at work, Denise…"

"Oh my God…she did? A boy? And she and the baby are okay? What the hell…not like the kid can go anywhere anyways. Tell 'em I'm on my way.

The goon tore out of the cabin and in five seconds, Matt breathed a sigh of relief as he heard a car pull out of the driveway, and Matt was officially the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

The cabin, luckily, wasn't large. He made his way upstairs and checked all the bedrooms, but found no evidence that anyone but two extremely messy people had lived there recently. There were old chicken wings on the floor. The place was starting to smell.

He went back downstairs.

"Anybody here?" He called out into the air.

He was met with silence. Then he remembered an episode of an old TV Show his mom used to love where this one dude was locked in a basement, and although there didn't seem to be a basement level, he found a door on the opposite end of the house towards the den area.

He turned the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Anybody down there?" Matt yelled. "Hey! I'm here to help! Anybody down there?"

He heard something. It wasn't loud, but it was enough. The high-pitched muffled, weak and raspy cries coming from somewhere behind he door was enough to make his blood run cold.

Usually, he loved being right. But this was one time that Matt really didn't want to be right at all.

"Hey, is that you down there, Kurt?"

The cries got louder.

Without a moment's hesitation, he looked around for something to break the door down. He found a chair and began to ram it into the door, and then just before the chair made contact with the door, he had to put it down.

If it really was Kurt, and they'd held him for this long, he was going to need help. The cops would come and they'd ask when the ambulance came how he knew Kurt was there. And a black guy in Indiana breaking and entering wasn't going to be forgiven, even if he did just help break open a national case.

He got out is cell phone.

"Mike," he said, not even waiting for his best friend to say hello. "I'm at the house…I think I found him. But God…I don't know what to do, Mike. What if he's hurt? What if they come back? I was almost caught earlier if I'm still here trying to get him out...he had a gun, Mike. What the hell was I thinking?"

"Slow down, Matt," Mike said. "Take a deep breath. What did you find?"

"A locked door I can't open."

"How do you know someone's in there?"

"I asked him…and I asked him if it was Kurt, and I'm pretty sure…Jesus! What the hell am I going to do?"

"Get out of there now, Matt. I'm not losing two friends over this, okay?"

"But Kurt!"

"Get the fuck out of there now! Call the 1-800 tip-line and leave an anonymous tip. They'll get the cops out there and handle it. I'll text you the number, but right now, you've got to get the hell out of there."

"No! If I do that, they're going to ask me all the questions you just asked me, plus, how I know all this stuff, and gee, I don't know. Stalking for three days and then breaking and entering doesn't exactly strike me as a reasonable course of action."

"Wait…you were stalking the house for three days? Matt! I thought you were just going to poke around and take a look!"

"It took me that long to get a chance to break in! That's not important. What's important here is that I have to get Kurt out of here."

"Dude, you are not going in there with guns blazing by yourself, okay? Kurt's still alive. That's amazing. We need to keep it that way. And you, too. So you're going to come over. We're going to get the rest of the guys together for a pow-wow, and we're all going to figure out what to do next."

"No. I'm not going to Lima tonight. I'd love to see everybody and say hello to the old gang, but they could move him, and we'd never find him after that, and then the last three days would all be for nothing."

"Oh. True. Ok," Mike said with a sigh. "New plan. I'm leaving right now for Fort Wayne. Once I'm there, we're going to figure out what to do. Just sit tight and don't do anything stupid until I get there, okay?"

"You do realize you could get caught or killed for doing this, right?"

"Matt, Tina has been keeping a brave face, but I know how much she wants Kurt back. Blaine's left the group. Finn…okay, so Finn sucked even when he _could_ concentrate, but I know it's hard for him. Rachel and Mercedes don't even have their hearts in it anymore. This is affecting everyone, and we don't have a chance at Nationals if we don't find Kurt soon. Even though everyone's trying to stay focused on SAT's and prom, nobody's really excited about it because Kurt should be there along side us, and this is the first time I've been able to help. So let me, okay?"

"Fine," Matt finally said. "Only, next time you come visit me, it's when we're not on a rescue mission. Deal?"

"Hey! The road goes both ways."

"Fair enough," Matt said, smiling for what felt like the first time since this whole thing began. "See you soon, Bro."

Matt sighed, feeling like there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Hey Kurt!" he yelled through the door. "It's Matt Rutherford! I don't know if you remember me, but we were in glee club a couple of years ago together. Anyway…just wanted to let you know…I don't know how, but we're getting you out of here, okay? Just hang tight."


	19. Chapter 19

"This sucks," Tina said announced before Glee rehearsal began. "I mean, it's bad enough without Kurt, but Blaine, too?"

"Sue's making the Cheerios compete with us so we don't have to worry about the twelve maximum members," Quinn said. "That's not going to be a problem."

"She's not talking about the number of people we have to compete, Quinn," Artie put in. "We're going to have to do some last-minute rearranging if we want to stand a chance at Nationals. Girls outnumber the guys by a mile with the cheerios. Those guys have always been two of our strong singers."

"Like doing anything last-minute has ever been a problem?" Finn pointed out. "We wrote last year's Nationals songs the night before."

"And look where it got us!" Puck protested. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'd rather not finish out my first senior year with a big fat nothing to show for it."

"We were twelfth place last time," Santana said. "You losers can all give yourselves a pat on the back for going at all, but I don't need to tell you how much that sucks. Those big national trophies? They're bigger than Girl-Hobbit. They're so shiny you can retouch your make-up on them. And I wants another one to add to my collection. So you know what we're gonna do? We're gonna stop feeling sorry for ourselves and figure out what the hell we're going to do to bring it home, because we've gotta make Hummel wish he was a part of it when we get him back."

"What if he doesn't come back?" Mercedes asked quietly. "We know that heart they mailed to his house wasn't even human, but…still…"

"And what are we going to do about Blaine?" Rachel asked.

"It was his choice to leave," Sam said.

"Yeah, but we should've tried harder to look out for him because Kurt would've wanted us to," Tina said. "I mean, has anyone even spoken to him since he quit?"

"Where's Mike?" Brittany asked, speaking up for the first time. "He was here, and now he's not. I think he's got ties to the Asian Mafia."

"Jesus H. Christ, if Mike, Boy-Hobbit AND Hummel are gone, next thing Mr. Schue is going to subject us to is Dance Week, and I've got better things to do with my time," Santana whined. "Apparently I have to do everything around here."

And with that, she left, and saw Mike heading out towards the senior parking lot. She called after him, but he seemed to ignore her. He sped out of the parking-lot, and Santana followed in hot pursuit.

* * *

><p>Matt never felt so helpless in his life.<p>

It was weird. Matt usually wasn't the type of person to risk much. He never even spoke up in glee rehearsals, even though there were times when he really, really wanted to. He was totally with Kurt and Artie when they objected most of the time, and he wasn't exactly Mr. Schue's favorite, either. He would speak in small groups, and because of that, he'd had a few quality conversations with Kurt before he transferred, but beyond that, he didn't know Kurt that well, and wouldn't be that surprised if Kurt didn't recognize him if they all made it out of this. Matt hadn't even Friended Kurt on Facebook.

Still, that didn't mean he hadn't kept up with New Directions drama through Mike. He knew Kurt had had a hard year last year, and he knew life for Kurt in Ohio would never be exactly easy, but at least he was sort of happy with his boyfriend, and Matt was glad for that.

"One question," Mike said as Matt strapped in.

"What's that?"

"So I'm doing this because Kurt's a friend, and an even better friend with my girlfriend, plus, you need back-up."

"And I'm getting you a really great Christmas present this year as a thank-you. Seriously, man. I owe you."

"I know. But that's not the point. I mean, most people would've just done the safe thing and called the cops a long time ago. But you had to play super-hero. Why?"

Matt sighed. "Remember why we joined New Directions?"

"Because we really loved getting down to Beyoncé."

Matt laughed at that. "That…and I mean, before that, who was the one who showed us it was okay to have fun getting down to Beyonce?"

"No, man, I get it…I mean, if it weren't for Kurt, I wouldn't have Tina, and I'd be going to Medical school next year. I know why I'm doing this. But my question is still why are you?"

"If you're trying to get me to admit some kind of crush…"

"It's okay if you are."

"Definitely, definitely not," Matt laughed. "No…it's just…I'm going to sound like I'm coming straight from one of those corny black-and-white sitcoms, but I mean…" he sucked in a breath. "I guess Kurt made it okay for me to dance. I liked being one of the dancers in New Directions instead of you know, one of those guys who just stood there while Azimio and Karofsky gave anyone they thought they deserved it a hard time, which, for the most part…it was him. He's a good person. I think he would've been a good friend if I hadn't had to transfer. Now, I'm the guy who dances and sings and sticks up for the picked-upon at my school now. It's time to pay it forward, I guess."

Without another word, Mike drove out of the parking-lot in the direction of the cabin.

* * *

><p>Tina found Blaine beating the hell out of a punching bag. She didn't have to wonder who the punching bag was. She kind of wanted to beat the living shit out of Sebastian, too.<p>

"Blaine?" Tina's normally quiet voice echoing off the walls startled him.

"This is the guy's gym. Girls really shouldn't be down here."

"I know…but…the guys told me you might be down here, and I just…I needed to talk to you for a second."

"And you couldn't just IM or text or call?" He demanded, pounding the bag again.

"You're never online! You won't return any of our calls and the last time I tried to catch you in the hall, you pretended I didn't exist!"

"If you're here to try and get me to come back, you're wasting your time." He replied, pounding the bag even harder.

"Blaine!" Tina yelled. She got behind the bag and barely stopped it from knocking her over. "Aren't you even going to listen to what I have to say?"

"So what? You're going to give me some watery-eyed speech about how your all my friends and you just want to help and you guys all love Kurt and you want him home as much as I do. Well, thanks, but that would've been a lot more convincing if you hadn't been obsessing over prom and SATs and everything else he won't get to experience if he doesn't come back."

"Well, then, I guess I've got nothing to say." Tina said, looking at the floor. "I shouldn't even be here anyway. I'll just…"

"Tina…I'm sorry. It's just…I hate who I am without him, okay? I've become a complete and total jerk and it's nobody's fault but my own."

"Well, you didn't have to tell _me_ that," Tina said with a grin.

Blaine finally looked at her then.

"I can't even justify it."

Tina shrugged. "I get it. You're angry that his even happened in the first place."

Blaine shook his head. "That's part of it. But mostly? I'm angry because nobody else seems to be as angry and pissed off and upset as I feel."

"I can't speak for everyone, Blaine, but I know for me? I focus on prom and SAT's and all those things because if I don't distract myself, I can't function. I can't sleep, I can't eat, or concentrate on anything."

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, Tina, it's just…"

She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I get it. We're all scared for Kurt. We all miss him. We all want him with us at Nationals, and if he's not there, it's not going to be right. And it's not going to be right if _you're_ not with us either."

"What if he never comes back?" Blaine asked in a voice so small and quiet that Tina almost didn't hear him.

Tina straightened up and seemed to decide something.

"Blaine," she announced. "I'm going to hug you and I don't care that you're all sweaty and gross because I missed you and I know you're going through a rough time right now because if it'd been Mike, I know I'd be a mess."

"I'm not a mess," Blaine sniffled.

"Says the weepy, sweaty boy crying on my shoulder," Tina said running a soothing hand over his back. "Why don't you get cleaned up and then I'll treat you to coffee?"

* * *

><p>Even with Mike driving at break-neck speed, it was still almost dark by the time they reached the cabin.<p>

Matt left the door unlocked, and he showed him where the basement door was.

"Hey Kurt! We're back! We're gonna try and break the door down, okay?"

Matt ran at it full speed ahead, kicking with all his might in the center of the door.

"You're going to hurt yourself that way," Mike said. "On three, we're both kicking it in. 1…2…3."

"Yeah, I don't need my ankle for anything any time soon," Matt whined as he hobbled around, trying to regain the feeling in his foot.

"You're the one who wanted to play super-hero, bro," Mike countered. "One more time?"

Matt nodded. This time, he grabbed a heavy-looking brass lamp that was sitting on a stand.

"1…2…3." A loud crash as the door splintered, and Matt was able to break the rest of the way through with the lamp. He unlocked the door from the outside and peered in.

The stench was enough to make him nauseated, and if the stench didn't do the job, the sight that greeted him as soon as he turned the lights on did.

Kurt blinked rapidly, but was otherwise not responding to anything going on in the room.

The two wasted no time scrambling down the stairs to assess the damage.

"Jesus, Kurt! What the hell did those bastards do to you?" Mike whispered. "Oh God, Matt…" Mike mumbled. "It's going to take awhile to figure out how to undo those chains without a key or a hammer or anything…and…once we do…how the hell are we going to get him up the stairs? We have to call the police, Matt. We can't get him out of this by ourselves."

"Do you get reception down here?" Matt asked.

Mike shook his head.

"Didn't think so. After we get him out, we'll call 9-1-1. As for the keys," Matt said, getting a hammer out of his back pocket and making fast work on the chains around Kurt's limbs. "I've got that covered. Hi Kurt, by the way. Long time no see."

Kurt whimpered as the chains were removed one by one, the skin gone almost entirely from where the links had bore into the flesh.

"Kurt," Mike said. "Matt's going to get your legs. I've got your torso, and we're going to carry you up the stairs."

Kurt was heavier than he looked, and even though he'd appeared to be emaciated, it was still hard to maneuver him out of the bed. Kurt let out a strangled cry when they finally managed to lift him up.

"I know it's gotta hurt, but just a few more minutes and you're home free, okay?"

They'd managed to get half-way up the stairs when they heard it.

A car door slamming shut.

"Holy shit," Matt breathed. "Someone's here. What do we do?"

"We made it this far," Mike said. "On three, let's run like hell."

They'd made it to the top of the stairs when several things happened at once: another man Matt didn't recognize had a gun pointed at them. A shot rang out. He was covered in blood, and for a minute, he thought it was his own.

Kurt slipped out of his grip and hit the bottom of the basement stairs like a rag-doll.

Matt didn't even register that he was covered in blood, and for a minute, he thought it was his, until he realized the blood wasn't coming from himself at all.

It was Mike.

Another click sounded.

"You want the next one, kid?" the man asked.

Matt was fairly certain he didn't.


	20. Chapter 20

When this began four days ago, Matt knew that if he could just get Kurt out of that house, it'd be okay. He could call 9-1-1 and get Kurt the medical attention he needed, and the police would be so overjoyed at cracking a nationally publicized case that they wouldn't think twice of the black guy who broke inside the house of a woman he didn't know.

In his head, though, his plan didn't include Mike, who was now bleeding profusely from somewhere, though Matt really couldn't tell where. He was too busy worrying about the barrel of a gun in his face.

"I-I-I just wanna get my friends help. That's all. Please…" Matt begged.

Somewhere behind him, he registered Mike staggering down the steps, swearing under his breath all the way down.

Matt glanced behind him, and Mike nodded in response to his best friend's unspoken question.

"It's my arm." Mike hissed.

"My friend said he thought he heard someone in the house earlier," the stranger said, killing the relief Matt felt rising in his chest by shaking his gun as he talked. "Was that you?"

"I don't think it matters what I say. You're gonna shoot me no matter what."

"Probably."

Matt held his breath.

But the bullet he was sure had his name on it never came.

Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance, and it was music to Matt's ears.

"You called the cops?" the stranger asked.

Matt shook his head.

In seconds, two policemen were standing, guns drawn, pointed at the back of the stranger.

"Sir, please put down your weapon slowly and turn around, and nobody else has to get hurt today."

"This punk tried to break into my house!" the stranger tried to explain.

"We're responding to a 9-1-1 call from a neighbor saying they heard gun-shots."

"Neighbor? Nobody lives within miles of this place!" the stranger protested.

"Oh my God…" Matt rushed out in a panic. "This isn't his house. He's been holding someone in the basement. My friends need help!" He nodded his head towards the bottom of the stairs, where Mike was sitting against the wall next to Kurt. "One of them's been shot. The other one…just call an ambulance! Please!"

The other officer glanced downstairs and scrambled down the steps. "Yo, Tommy, call an EMT out here. We've got two injuries."

Officer Tommy jerked his head in Matt's direction. "Kid, you're coming down to the station with us to so we can clear up a few things."

"You're arresting me?"

"No, but if you leave, it ain't gonna be pleasant."

"No," Matt said, shaking his head. "Look, arrest me if you want, but I'm not going anywhere until I know they're okay. Two men have been holding my friend Kurt hostage for weeks and…"

"Wait…Kurt? As in Kurt Hummel? As in the Congressman's kid who went missing?"

Matt nodded.

The first officer came up from the garage then.

"It looks like they've been keeping him chained up," Matt continued. "We were trying to get him out of the basement when my friend got shot and we dropped him and he hit his head, and…."

"So let me get this straight," the officer said. "You figured you'd just camp out here and go in there guns a-blazin' and play hero?"

"No guns! I'm unarmed. Well, except a hammer."

"A hammer," Officer Tommy deadpanned. "You thought you'd just go up against a couple of guys with a hammer?"

"I thought I'd be able to get him out by the time they came back!"

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?"

"Just a bit."

"What've we got down there, Harv?" Officer Tommy shouted downstairs.

"Two victims. I've already called an EMT crew, and they're on their way. Looks like one GSW victim, but the wound is superficial. The other kid's suffered a head injury…among other things."

"Mike, you okay?" Matt yelled.

"More or less."

Matt breathed a sigh of relief as two teams of EMTs came in with a couple of stretchers.

"Officer, what do you need to know? I really want to get to the hospital to make sure my friends are okay."

"So, let me get this straight," Officer Harvey said. "You're here because…"

"Why are any of us here, really?"

* * *

><p>Officer Harvey was clearly not amused.<p>

"I'm off to work," Carole informed her husband. "There's meatloaf in the crock-pot. You won't even be able to tell it was made with ground turkey, I promise."

"Kurt's gonna be glad there's someone around here making sure I eat what I'm supposed to."

Carole could only offer a small smile. It'd been nearly a month since his disappearance, and Carole knew that as the weeks turned into months, the likelihood that Kurt would be found alive was diminishing more and more. All three of them jumped at every phone call, all wondering if that would be the one telling them that their worst fears had been realized.

Still, time marched on, and life had to be lived. Finn went to school. Carole went to work. Burt went to the police station to make sure the police were doing their jobs and spent the rest of his day at the tire shop just to keep busy. In the evening, Finn spent most of his time in his room shooting things, Burt would sometimes watch a game or Pawn Wars, but more often than not, Carole would come home to find him sitting in the garage in Kurt's car, and that's where she found him tonight.

"Sitting in here isn't going to bring him back, Burt," she said.

"I know. Finn out with Rachel tonight?"

Carole nodded. "It wouldn't kill you to talk to him when he comes home, you know. You're not the only one hurting in this house."

"I know. It's just been him and me for so long, it's easy for me to forget I'm not the only one in his corner anymore, y'know?"

"I know. I love you. The way you love Kurt is one of the things that made me fall in love with you in the first place. I don't think it's wrong for you to miss him. We all miss him. Just don't shut the rest of us out in the meantime, okay?"

Burt nodded.

"Call me if there's any news. I'll be charge nurse tonight, so it might take awhile for me to call back, but I will."

"Love you, too, Carole."

Two hours later, the phone rang.

* * *

><p>Blaine felt better after talking with Tina.<p>

It was hard not to feel better, even though The Lima Bean was a hard place to be in without thinking of Kurt. Then again, he didn't have to be anywhere special to think about Kurt, but school was hard enough without him. The Lima Bean was just adding salt to the wound.

And then there was the barista, who looked apologetic as she handed Blaine his coffee.

"Look, I'm really really sorry if I overstepped my bounds last time you were here. It's just…there's customers in and out of here a lot, and most of them are shitty, but you never forget to tip or say thank you, and you guys just looked so adorable and happy and I can't even imagine what you're going through. I've been watching the news every day to see if anything's developed about Non-Fat…I mean, Kurt…and I never watch the news. Also, I'd give you a free coffee but my manager says I can't do that anymore, and...crap I'm rambling again, aren't I? I'll just shut up now and get your coffee."

Blaine just smiled and nodded in bewilderment.

He sat with Tina, while she regaled him with tales of Nationals preparations, and all the drama that had been going on in his absence. Apparently Finn had been barely coming to glee practice, too, and although Blaine felt a twinge of guilt at feeling better, his heart was a little lighter as he headed home.

The good feeling died, though, when his mom called him downstairs.

"Blaine, your mother and I wanted to talk to you because we're concerned. We know you're worried about Kurt, and we don't blame you for that. But we've discussed it, and we think it's time for you to think about going back to Dalton."

"You always seemed to like it there so much," his mother continued. "We put you there because it was always safe. What do you think about finishing the year where you belong?"

"You think that Dalton's safe? Dad, did you know that the lead singer of the Warblers now is the one who kidnapped Kurt in the first place? And you two do realize that those people are the ones who threw rock salt in my eye a couple of months ago?"

"As I understand it, the way you told us, that was meant for Kurt," his father said.

"I can't believe you two!"

"There are other schools besides Dalton in this area we could apply to," his mother rejoined. "Can you honestly tell me you're happy at McKinley?"

"I can't even believe we're having this conversation. I'm gone. I'll be back by curfew, but I just can't be here right now."

An hour later found Blaine at the Lima Arcade. Twelve year olds weren't out at that hour, and it was better than staying in his room. He couldn't get into the school to go to the gym, and he'd already been to the Lima Bean that day, so the Arcade was the only place he could go.

It was sometime after nine when the arcade shut down and although Blaine really didn't want to go home, he didn't have anywhere else to go.

He was about to pull out of the driveway when his cell phone rang. Burt's number popped up, and Blaine's heart sank.

There's only one reason Burt would call at this hour, and it'd been nearly a month. There was no way it could be good news after this long.

Which was why Blaine had to ask Burt to repeat what he'd said, because he couldn't quite make himself believe it.

Kurt was alive. Not out of the woods, but alive at a hospital in Indiana.


	21. Chapter 21

Blaine was only viscerally aware of time and space passing. He barely thought to call his parents to tell them where he was going. He told his mother in a rush what had happened, and added that they could ground him if they wanted, but Kurt was alive and in a hospital, and that's where he needed to be.

To his surprise, all his mother had to say was "Which hospital?"

"Burt says he was in a hospital in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"Indiana! Blaine if you think you're driving all that way at this time of night…"

He heard some typing in the background.

"Mom, I'm fine. I just really _really_ need to go right now."

"Which hospital?"

"Um…DuPont, I think?"

"You've waited almost a month. You can wait ten minutes. Now tell me where you are so I can pick you up and take you there. I really don't want you alone right now, and I certainly don't want you driving across state lines alone this time of night."

And that was how Blaine found himself sitting in DuPont Hospital, hunched over in a chair in the waiting area between Finn and his mom because they wouldn't let him on the floor since they were still running tests with his mother awkwardly patting his hand in an attempt to be reassuring. Burt was hunched over filling out paper work, and that was to be expected. What he didn't understand, though, was why Mike's dad was filling out paper work across from him.

"I cannot believe my son was so careless!" Mr. Chang was ranting. "His mother and I did not raise him to be so foolish. I do not understand why law enforcement was not notified."

"Mr. Chang," Burt replied. "What your son and his friend did was stupid. But as far as I'm concerned, they're heroes. Because of them, for the first time in a month, I'm in the same building as my kid, and that's…" he scrubbed his face with his hand. "Well, it's big. Huge."

"Blaine!" Finn greeted. "Hey, dude. Thanks for comin'."

Blaine shrugged as if to say "Where else would I be?" Blaine asked, then let out a shakey sigh, bracing himself for the answer. "So…how is he?"

"We dunno," Burt said with a heavy sigh.

"We're still kinda waiting on a full report," Finn supplied. "They didn't really tell us much when we got here and we haven't seen him yet 'cause they were doing a bunch of tests and stuff."

"What is Mike's dad doing here?" Blaine asked in a hushed tone, jerking his head in the direction of the two older men.

"Oh! I don't really have all the details yet, but according to the cops, Mike was trying to carry Kurt up some stairs when he got shot."

"Wow," was all Blaine could say to that. "I just…wow. Mike is going to get an awesome Christmas present from me this year. Somebody should call Tina. She should be here, too."

"He wasn't like, fatally wounded or anything," Finn supplied. "He just grazed on his arm."

"Yeah…still," Blaine replied. "I just…it feels like someone should let her know. She's going to wonder why Mike's not at school tomorrow."

"Do you know how long it'll be?" Blaine's mother spoke up for the first time, and all eyes were on her. "Before you all can see him? Kurt, I mean. I should tell my husband when to expect Blaine and myself back."

Finn exchanged glances with Burt.

"Mom, if you need to go home, just go," Blaine said. "But I'm staying here."

"Yeah, one of us can take the kid home," Burt agreed.

"That doesn't answer my question," she insisted.

"We dunno," Burt repeated. "They called us and told us that he was here, and we've been here an hour, and nobody's said anything since."

"I mean, that could be a good thing," Finn said. "They haven't spoken to us yet because they're busy keeping him alive and stuff. So…"

"So." Blaine said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet, because he didn't know what else to do.

He was about to start a text to Tina when the doors swung open again.

"Bitches better bow!" Santana crowed with her arm flung in the crook of a stranger's elbow. Next to her was an older Hispanic woman. "Next time I see you, Tall, Dark and Silent, it better not be to bail you out of jail. Now, who wants to hear the tale of how Auntie Tana saved the gay?"

"Matt!" Finn greeted, hugging him so tight Blaine was worried he was going to crack the poor guy's rib. "You were in jail for this?"

"Not technically. Just brought in for questioning. Mrs. Lopez here is my legal eagle. She's the real hero as far as I'm concerned."

"I understand why you were afraid being African American would cause you more trouble, but still, Matthew, why you did not call the police…"

"So you're Matt!" Blaine said. Then he hugged him, too. "Blaine, by the way," he said when he pulled away.

"Um, hi?" Matt said. Now it was his turn to shuffle on his feet and look down at the ground as he felt all eyes on him.

"What you did...that was…you're getting an even bigger Christmas present from me than Mike is. All I need is your address. And your last name would help, too."

"From me, too, by the way," Burt said, getting up for the first time. "I don't know if I can ever repay you for what you did."

"Um, Christmas presents really aren't necessary," Matt said, still looking at the floor. "It was stupid. We're all just lucky Santana called 9-1-1, or it could've ended really differently."

"Finally, someone recognizes," Santana said. "So anyone want to fill me in?"

"We're just waiting right now," Finn said. "They're doing tests. Mike was shot in the arm, but he'll be fine."

"And what about Kurt?" Santana rushed out. It was perhaps the first time Blaine had ever heard her use his actual name. It sounded odd coming from her lips.

"We don't know yet, Santana," Finn answered, worry etched in his expression like Blaine had never really seen before. He watched the elevators as if he was willing a doctor with answers for them to emerge from it.

"Seriously?" Santana ranted. "Do I have to do everything?! Which doctor do I need to fuck to get some fucking answers around here!"

That was the Santana Blaine knew.

"Santana! Watch your language!" her mother barked.

"Sorry Mami, you know I can't be held responsible for my tongue right now."

"I know you're scared for your friends, Santana, and it's one thing to talk like that around your friends, but there's a time and place for everything, Mijah."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't even like Hummel and I barely know Chang. Why would I be…" her breath stopped as a red-headed woman emerged from the elevator.

"Are you Kurt Hummel's family?"

The ones who weren't standing (Burt and Mr. Chang) were on their feet now, and everyone stopped talking.

"I'm his father," Burt said as he stood.

"He's stabilized for the time being. His wrist is fractured, as well as one of his ribs. Also, the skin around his ankles particularly was beginning to show signs of infection, and we are treating it with antibiotics. He seems to have been severely malnourished as well as dehydrated. We can't be sure how long it's been since he ate or drank last, but we are giving him nutrients through a tube, as well as a saline solution intravenously. The dehydration, is, of course, complicating the healing process, so we need to address that first before we move forward with treatment."

"But you can move forward, right?" Burt asked.

"He's unresponsive at the moment, which is most likely due to the head injury he suffered just prior to being brought here. With head injuries, it's never certain how they will effect any given patient, so I can't really give you a time-frame when you can expect a recovery, although the X-Ray didn't seem to indicate a major fracture, so it's looking pretty good."

"So what you're saying is he's in a coma?" Blaine asked.

The doctor nodded.

"So when can I see him?" Burt demanded.

"I'll take you to him now," she said.

Everyone began to file into the elevator, but she pressed the 'open' button.

"It's after visiting hours and a crowd like you is going to make the night-shift nurses cranky. Two a time, please."

Finn exchange a glance with Blaine. "You should go, Dude. I need to call my mom and let her know what's going on."

Finn didn't need to tell Blaine twice.

With a ding, the elevator doors closed, and Blaine couldn't believe it.

It was over.

Kurt was back.

It was going to be okay.

It had to be.


	22. Chapter 22

It was weird.

As much as Blaine's knees were threatening to buckle under him, the doctor leading them to Kurt's room couldn't walk fast enough.

That is, until he found himself at the door to the room.

On the other side would be Kurt.

_His_ Kurt.

His perfect, amazing boyfriend was less than ten feet away, and suddenly, Blaine was _terrified_.

Blaine longed to see Kurt again, and needed proof that Kurt was alive and breathing like the doctor said, but for some reason, he'd stopped just shy of the door. As much as he wanted to see Kurt, he couldn't trust himself around Burt. As much as he liked the man, the truth was, he wasn't exactly in That Place with him where he felt comfortable crying in front of him, and he knew he couldn't trust himself well enough to hold it together until he was alone, or at least with his mom.

He wanted to say everything he couldn't say the night Kurt stormed out, he wanted to pour his heart out and then he'd wake up just like it happens in the movies, but he needed to be alone with him to say those things, and asking Burt to leave was completely out of the question.

"You want some time alone first?" Blaine asked.

Burt shook his head. "Just open the damn door, kid."

Blaine took a deep breath. His hand shook so badly, it was a wonder he was able to turn the knob at all.

_Oh God…_

Blaine wasn't entirely sure whether or not he kept that to himself. He suspected he hadn't, because Burt laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I know..." Burt answered. Blaine didn't turn away to look at Burt even then, and Burt's gaze hadn't diverted from the form in the bed, either.

It was Kurt, only…it wasn't.

Blaine had seen Kurt before without product, but his skin was dry and flakey. Kurt would never let his skin go dry like that.

Kurt had always been pale and thin, but this was _different_. His cheekbones were sunken in, and Blaine had a feeling that if he looked, he'd be able to count his ribs at a glance, too. He had a bandage on his head, and his dark hair was a stark contrast to his ghost-white features against the white sheets. Blaine had never seen him so…small wasn't the right word, because his legs occupied most of the length of the bed, but that was the only one that came to mind.

There were tubes for oxygen, and another one Blaine didn't recognize. Kurt was going to hate the tape marks they were going to leave when he saw them, and made a mental note to bring his facial care products with him tomorrow before he left.

Wires attached to multi-colored nodes came from his chest, and those were attached to a small bag Blaine knew to be a heart rate monitor from when Grandpa Anderson was sick. He made a mental note to look up the ideal heart rate when he got home to see how close it was to normal, and swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat.

At least it would be something to do besides cry himself to sleep later.

A thin, shaky sigh could be heard behind him, and Blaine chastised himself for forgetting again that he wasn't the only one in the room.

"I shouldn't be here," Blaine said in an almost-whisper. He didn't know why it came out like that. If Kurt heard his voice, maybe it really would be like it was in the movies and on television, and he'd wake up and that's what everyone wanted.

"The hell you shoudn't," Burt grunted. "Look, if you want, I can go find the doc or something and see what we need to do if…when…or get us some coffee."

"No, no, no…it's…I mean, you're," he stuffed his hand in his pocket, still unable to tear his gaze away. "If anyone needs to go here, it's me."

"You've been waitin' for today just as long as I have, Blaine. After awhile, you and your mom should probably head back home. You've got school tomorrow."

Blaine nodded.

School.

_Shit_. Blaine had completely forgotten about that.

"We'd had a fight," Blaine said in a voice that didn't even sound like his own. "If I hadn't been so…" He couldn't tell Burt what exactly transpired that night. First, Kurt was going to stay the night, and that's not something he wanted Burt to know while they were both in fragile states. Second, when it came down to it, he was a coward. He couldn't admit a simple thing: that if he had just said 'fine, I'll ignore them,' it would be so completely different. So, he exhaled, and the dam opened then. The tears that he'd managed to hold back until that point came unbidden and unrelenting. "It's all m-m-y f-f-fault."

"Listen to me, son," Blaine normally stiffened at the use of that particular nickname. From his own father, it was patronizing and condescending, but from Burt, it was different. He felt two steadying hands on his shoulders, and Blaine didn't stop crying, but at least the shaking sobs slowed after a few seconds. It was a term of endearment coming from him, one that Blaine couldn't help but take more than a little comfort in. "Feelin' guilty when something like this happens is par for the course. I'm sure he told you we lost his mother when he was young."

Blaine nodded. Kurt didn't talk much about it, but it was very clear to Blaine that Kurt still missed her.

"Anyway, that guilt you're feelin'? It happened to me when his mother died, so I kinda know what I'm talkin' about, because I have no doubt in my mind that you feel the same way about Kurt that I felt about his mother. I can't tell you how many different ways I wished this could've been different, just like I did with her, but if the cops are right, the bastards who did this would've gone after him the first chance they got, and that just happened to be it. You had nothing to do with this Blaine. Understood?"

Blaine nodded, and tried to take comfort in the words, but the guilt was there, eating him raw.

"I've wanted to punch things before," Blaine finally said, gaze returning to the bed. "I've wanted to hurt people before. But I've never wanted to kill anyone the way I want to kill Sebastian and those goons right this second."

Burt released a heavy sigh. "Me neither, kid. Me neither. But I can't go after him 'cause I know he's gonna need me here. And if I can't…"

Whatever Burt was going to say was cut off by a short rap on the door.

"Detective Lebowski," Burt said, standing. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up."

The woman who'd questioned Blaine all those weeks ago closed her eyes as though she were bristling at Burt's implication.

"Federal Agents are on their way. They're in charge of this case now since the kidnapping crossed state lines. We've apprehended two suspects in this case as far as I know. They are being booked and processed as we speak. The Feds have a nation-wide search for Smythe as we speak, and I'll give the agent in charge your contact information. But until we wakes up and we have all the details, I'm afraid that's the best we can do."

"That's the best you can do? You thought this kid," Burt said in a near-growl, pointing in Blaine's direction, "was the one responsible. If you'd had any sense you would know that he'd never lay a hand on my kid, even if they did have a fight. You also questioned Noah Puckerman that night, and okay, I get that line of reasoning a little better. Kid's got a record a mile long, but Puck and Kurt are sort of friends. You questioned Karofsky, who I admit was the first person I thought of throughout this whole thing, I don't care what Kurt might've said about him changing. Then…"

"Mr. Hummel, listen, I…"

"No, _you_ listen. You had the right guy. You. Had. Him."

"And we had no proof to keep him in jail, so we had to let him go," she explained tersely. "I had to operate within the confines of the law."

Burt's voice was rising now, and Blaine could only stand by and watch.

"Yeah, well, that may be. But you seriously screwed the pooch here, Agent Lebowski. My kid could've died at the hands of those monsters waiting for you to get your goddamn proof."

"I've heard that before," Burt said in a low, dangerous tone. "Now get. Out."

Blaine thought he could hear the soft clicking of heels coming towards their door in the hallway.

"Blaine," his mother said, appearing in the doorway. "It's time to go home. I asked if you could miss class tomorrow, but your father was not agreeable to that, so we should…"

She glanced towards the bed and gasped. "Oh my…I had no….Mr. Hummel, I'm so sorry to be meeting like this. I wish it was a better occasion."

"Me too," Burt said.

"Blaine?" she said. "I don't mind bringing you back tomorrow, or if you want you can get a ride with one of your friends?"

Blaine nodded, and with one last glance in Kurt's direction, he dug his hands in his pocket again, and let his mother lead him out of the room.


	23. Chapter 23

When Blaine woke up the next morning, he wasn't sure whether or not he'd dreamt the previous night's events. Had Burt really called with the news that Kurt was found? Had he actually _seen_ Kurt last night? Blaine had no idea.

It wasn't until he heard the report on the radio as he was getting ready that it hit him. It _had_ been real. Kurt was back. It was far from over. Kurt wasn't even awake, and the longer he remained in the coma he was in, the worse his chances got. But the idea that Blaine knew right where he was, that he could just…see him…any time he liked? That was a huge weight off his shoulders.

Except he had school that day, and his dad was explicitly against missing school to be with him. It didn't matter that Blaine was a model student, that he'd had a near-perfect GPA. All that mattered was that his attendance record was already blemished enough, and being lovesick wasn't enough of a reason to skip school for a day as far as his dad was concerned.

It didn't matter that he'd never be able to concentrate on anything. It didn't matter that he'd send the whole day watching the clock even worse than usual, checking his phone obsessively. All that mattered was that Blaine couldn't mess up any more than he already had.

Still, though, as much as Blaine hated it, his dad was sort of right. As much as he wanted to be there, missing school was out of the question.

"Son," his father spoke as soon as he entered the kitchen. He remembered the way Burt had used that term of endearment towards someone he didn't really know, and to contrast it now with the coldness his own dad addressed him made him flinch. "Look, I would be lying if I said I was just hoping they wouldn't find Kurt just so you'd move on and find someone bet—someone more like you. But you'd have to be blind to not see the pain you've been in this past month with him missing, and I just wanted to let you know, tell him if his family needs anything…help paying for good lawyers or anything, tell them we're—I'm—prepared to help."

Blaine stood there, flabbergasted. Once upon a time, that would've been the start to healing a lot of hurts. But now…

"You do realize Burt's a Congressman, right? That Mr. Berry has taken on the case from day one?"

"I'm offering an olive branch here."

Making a decision, Blaine squared his jaw and attempted to make himself as tall as possible. "Then write me an excuse for tomorrow so I can go to the hospital to be with him," he dared.

"You've had to miss too much school this year already because of him, and if this boy really cares for you, he'll understand that your future is important, too."

"I need to be with him, Dad," Blaine pleaded.

"So visit him after school lets out."

Blaine sighed. "I'm going to be there when he wakes up, school or no school. What you do about it? That's up to you."

Blaine grabbed his keys by the door, and with that, he left, and turned out of his neighborhood onto the highway towards Indiana.

* * *

><p>Blaine could barely get past the wall of reporters that all but accosted him as he pulled into the parking-lot, barking questions about Kurt.<p>

"Blaine, what can you tell us about Kurt?" one reporter barked. Blaine ignored him and shoved through the crowd. He was beginning to regret not taking his father up on the offer, because although Kurt's family had all the legal help they needed, it never occurred to him that he'd need representation.

"Blaine, any word about whether or not Smythe is in custody? Is it true that Smythe did this to get to you?"

That one made him bristle, but he did his best to ignore it. He had to get to Kurt.

"Blaine, do you have anything to say to Sebastian?"

He just tensed and shoved his way through the emergency room entrance.

Blaine pressed the elevator button to the ICU floor Kurt was currently on. Maybe Kurt would be awake, and he could say the things he'd been waiting so long to say, and Burt forgot to call him in all the excitement.

He arrived at Kurt's room for the second time, and again, felt the same hesitation he felt when he entered the room last night. What if Kurt was awake and didn't want to see him? What if he was still angry about the fight they'd had?

He steeled himself and knocked.

"As long as you're not, like, a reporter or something, come on in," Finn said from the other side of the door.

Blaine steeled himself. Finn was sort of the last person he wanted to deal with, but if that meant he got to be with Kurt, then he'd deal with him.

"Oh, hey." Finn said. His eyes were red-rimmed and Blaine thought he might've been crying.

"Any change?" Blaine asked.

Finn shook his head. "They said he could wake up at any time, but the longer he stays out, the worse his chances get."

"I still can't believe he's back. It wasn't until I heard it on the news this morning that I actually figured out it wasn't some kind of dream."

"I know," Finn said, watching Kurt closely, as if turning his head away for one moment would be the biggest disaster ever.

"Any word on how Mike's doing?"

"They released him this morning," Finn said. "He wanted to stay here with us, but his dad wouldn't let him."

"Did you call Tina?" Blaine asked.

Finn nodded. "She was pretty mad. Listen, dude. Any chance of you coming back to New Directions now that he's back?"

Blaine barked out a laugh. "You're seriously asking me this right now? You're worse than Mr. Schue."

"Look, I know things have been weird since all this happened, and I know that's my fault. I guess I'm still sort of jealous of you, you know? I mean, it's not 'cause of your talent now, though. But I look at what Rachel and I have,think about what Quinn and I had, and I can't have what you and Kurt have with either of them. Can't even come close."

"I mean, I'm not even going to be the Quarterback next year. Burt says I can help with his tire shop and maybe take it over some day, but I dunno…it just feels like he's just being nice to help me out, you know? I'm not really…_good_ at anything. I can't sing like you and Kurt can. Everybody knows Schue has to me-proof all the dance numbers. I'm a Lima loser and no matter what I do, Rachel's always going to pick New York over me."

"Rachel and Kurt are scarily alike."

"Yeah, they are," Finn agreed.

"She's going to go to New York whether you're with her or not," Blaine said. "I'm pretty sure Kurt's going to be right there with her, and you and I? We'll just be stuck here, waiting for them to come back for holidays, and Skyping and texting every chance we get, just hoping they won't forget us."

"They belong in New York. You should've seen them there last year at Nationals. It was like they'd both come home. I don't want to be the one to hold her back. But you? You fit in New York. You also fit here just as easily, and you've made Kurt happier than I ever remember him seeing. I know I should be sitting here, worried about Kurt, and I am. But I guess I've just had a lot of time to think about things."

"You know, I kind of skipped breakfast, and I think the hospital cafeteria is open now. You want anything?"

Blaine shook his head.

"I'll be back in five."

He wasted no time scooting the chair Finn had occupied earlier.

Blaine finally had his chance. It didn't matter if Kurt could hear him or not, he needed to say all the things in his heart. Maybe if he said them, maybe it really would be like in those movies and Kurt would open his eyes and all would be right with the world again. Just maybe…

He took Kurt's hand. It felt so cold and clammy and lifeless, and that terrified Blaine, but he grasped both his hands in the one that didn't have an IV needle.

"Kurt, I don't know if you're here. I don't know if you can hear me, and even if you can, I don't even know if you want to speak to me, but you're kind of a captive audience right now and can't really run away, so here it goes. You're the love of my life. I might not've always known that, but I know it with the same kind of certainty that I know the earth is round and the oceans are deep. I know a lot of people probably say that about their first love, but…you are, Kurt."

He let out a shaky breath. Kurt remained still. Blaine chose to concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest and laid his head down on it, and continued.

"Kurt, you have to wake up," Blaine said finally after several long breaths. "You have to wake up because next year is going to be hard enough if I get to see you once in awhile, but I've been without you for a month now, and it's seriously been the longest month of my life. I know it's probably not healthy to need you as much as I do, but I don't really give a damn about that, because I can't sleep…I can't eat…I've been a complete jerk to everyone else, and I just don't know how to be without you very well."

"If you don't wake up, who am I going to text all day? Who's going to make me better? Who's going to bring me flowers and who am I going to bake cookies for and grow old with? You promised me you'd never say goodbye to me. Don't make me say goodbye to you. Please, don't."

He held his breath and waited for any sign that Kurt heard what he'd just said. A hand-twitch, a change in the heart monitor, anything at all.

But no sign came.


	24. Chapter 24

Will turned over and hit his alarm clock when it went off at 6AM, but the truth of the matter was, he hadn't really slept. Not soundly, anyway. Ever since Kurt went missing, he had to drink a couple of beers to get to sleep at all. If Kurt wasn't found soon, Will didn't know what that would mean for New Directions at the upcoming Nationals competition. Finn was just going through the motions, and even Rachel seemed to have lost her drive. Mercedes was there, but she wasn't talking back. She wasn't talking to _anybody_; not even Sam.

Although rehearsal was met with a lot less protest these days, the choir room just didn't buzz with the same excitement it once had. It was impossible to get everyone to stop asking Finn about any updates. It was impossible to ignore the possibility that Nationals might happen without him, and Will couldn't do a damn thing about it. He hated the thought of winning without one of the original kids, but if he couldn't get them to focus, they probably wouldn't even finish in twelfth place this time. He could push them, he could get Sue to yell at them to try harder, but the truth of the matter was, if their hearts weren't in it, it wouldn't matter what he did.

He remembered his last assignment. He asked them to sing about loss.

"_I know the last month without Kurt has been hard on everyone, especially for those closest to him," he said, with a pointed look at Rachel, Finn and Mercedes," but we are not helping ourselves by not addressing the elephant in the room. I'm just gonna say it. Kurt might not come back, and painful as it may be, we need to deal with it. We have to deal with it if we're going to get our focus back in time to work on Nationals."_

_Mercedes stood up then. "I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to my best friend's eulogy before he's even in the ground."_

"_Best friend?" Quinn scoffed. "Ever since Blaine came along, you two barely talk!"_

"_Bitch, please, what the hell do you know about best friends? I opened up my home to you and then you act like I don't even exist!?"_

"_Guys…" Will tried, but clearly, he'd lost control of the room._

The room somehow dissolved into shouting then, and Puck and Santana were the only ones to actually do the assignment that week. None of the others even bothered. He hadn't helped them at all, and the fact of the matter was, there was nothing he could do for them but listen if they wanted to talk.

He knew his kids were hurting. He hoped for everyone's sakes that Kurt would be found safe, but Will knew the odds were not in his favor.

Which is why he had to rewind the DVR just to make sure he was not hearing things:

"Breaking news regarding the disappearance of Kurt Hummel. Authorities say that Congressman Burt Hummel's son was found alive but unresponsive in Indiana at an undisclosed location. Authorities were alerted to a possible disturbance in an isolated, private residence. Currently, there is a nation-wide search for the person believed to be responsible in the abduction, Dalton Academy senior Sebastian Smythe. Authorities have informed us that they are on Dalton grounds as we speak searching for this individual for questioning. Representatives for the Hummel family say that they are cautiously optimistic and are eagerly watching for any signs of improvement in his condition."

"Emma?" he called out in the bathroom. "Emma, tell me you're seeing what I'm seeing."

He pressed play, and she let out a gasp. "Oh Will! You mean…he's back?"

"He's not conscious yet, but…yeah," Will said, still dumbfounded.

"I wonder how many of the kids know already," Emma mused allowed.

"I don't know. I'm kind of surprised I didn't get a call from Burt though, or Finn, or someone."

"Will, they're probably a little pre-occupied right now. I'll be surprised if Finn is at school today."

Will nodded, and played the report over and over again in his head as he got ready for the day, vowing to call Burt himself on the way to work.

It'd been a long time since Will arrived on campus with so much spring in his step. Kurt was back. What that meant for Kurt himself was enough cause for rejoicing, but what it meant for his little group made everything just seem so much easier all of a sudden. Finn and Rachel would finally have their focus back. If they were lucky, they might even persuade Blaine to rejoin! It was all coming together, and all Kurt had to do was wake up.

Will remembered what it had been like when Kurt left for Dalton, what a gaping hole was felt by his absence and how hard it was to remind the kids that Kurt had left then, and he did it to stay safe. Now, though, it was like Kurt was back from the dead, and he hadn't even woken up yet.

"William, given the obnoxiously cheery grin on your face, I assume you saw the news this morning regarding Porcelain," Sue said, barely unable to contain a grin on her own face herself. "Either that or you and The Chippette did the wild thing, and that is not a mental image I care to have this early in the morning."

"Best. News. Ever! Seriously…I had to rewind the DVR and ask Emma to come into the room just to make sure I wasn't still asleep."

"I came by because I wanted to prepare you. The media outlets have already begun sniffing around asking about me because of the two of us, I'm the one who's made headlines already. You might want to have answers prepared."

"I appreciate that, Sue, but I doubt they're going to ask any tough questions."

"Of course not. As his favorite teacher, of course you know all about him."

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to a gentle hand on his shoulder.<p>

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir," a strange woman was saying. "But it's time to check his vitals, and you're welcome to stay if you'd like, but I need…"

Blaine nodded and the chair scraped against the floor as he scooted it back against the wall.

Finn walked in, holding two cups of coffee.

"Any change?" Finn asked. Blaine shook his head. "I went for a walk. I had about a billion texts from Rachel and everybody wanting to know how he's doing, and I needed some air."

"I dunno what kind you get at The Lima Bean when you go there with Kurt, but I, uh, figure you could use this."

Blaine took it gratefully. "I appreciate it."

Finn shifted on his feet. "So, um…Rachel says that there are a ton of reporters around the school sniffing around. She's kind of trying not to love the whole being famous part because of how it happened and everything, but I can totally tell she's not hating the limelight." Finn glanced towards the bed. "He's not going anywhere. You want to come talk a walk with me? Stretch your legs a bit?"

Blaine shook his head. "I don't want to leave him alone."

"So, um…Artie says he's going to try and talk his dad into driving their van up to Indiana, and a bunch of the guys are gonna try to carpool after class. You sure you don't want some fresh air?"

"No, Finn, I really…"

"Come on, man, a few minutes away won't kill you!" He glanced towards the nurse who gave them a wary glance.

Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I could use a little." They walked down the hallway to the elevator.

"What the hell was that for? It's not like she was listening anyway, and who knows if he can…"

"Dude! Ixnay on the overhearing-ay, okay?"

Blaine stared blankly.

"Little pitchers...I kinda need a word in private," Finn said, jerking his head in the nurse's direction. "Didn't they teach you Pig Latin at Dalton?"

"So what's the word?" Blaine asked, not in the mood for Finn's nonsense.

"Rachel says that Jacob kid tried to offer her a deal. Sexual favors for intel on where Sebastian is."

Blaine nearly spit out his coffee through his nose. "Either I'm still asleep or…"

"No, no. You're awake, man." Finn said. "Look, the thought of Rachel cheating on me isn't cool, but if it's for Kurt, I'm kinda thinkin' maybe…"

"Finn, are you kidding me?!" Blaine sputtered.

"Rachel says he claims to know where Sebastian is hiding. She thinks he's legit."

"Kurt told me once that Rachel also thinks _Cats_ is still running," Blaine said with a snort of laughter. "Besides, Mike and that other guy tried to go off on their own and it almost got them in a lot of trouble. Plus, if you think I'm leaving here as long as Kurt's still in trouble you're…"

A nasally female voice came over the loudspeaker then. "Paging Dr. Snyder to Room 314."

"314…" Blaine realized, blanching, then running into a sprint down the hall. "Kurt's room."

Finn was right on his heels behind him.


	25. Chapter 25

Kurt was having a really awful, strange dream. Except, he couldn't remember anything specific, just that it was pitch-black, and he was awoken (well, awoken wasn't perhaps the right word; he seemed to be unable to open his eyes) and he was being lifted and then poked and prodded. Sharp needles pinched his wrists, and he felt weightless and much too heavy all at once. He just knew his body was there and he was a part of it, but no matter what he did, his eyelids refused to open, and he couldn't figure out why. He knew he wasn't in chains anymore, though he was tethered somehow by something, but what that something was, he didn't know.

He could hear voices around him, most of which were unfamiliar. But then he recognized his dad and Blaine. Later, he heard Finn and Carole. He knew they were sad and Kurt wanted nothing more than to let them know that he was okay somehow, but he couldn't. Sometimes, someone held his hand, and he couldn't understand what they were saying, but for the time being, the Nothingness was overwhelming.

Sometimes he would almost be not-floating. Sometimes he would think maybe he could try opening his eyes, but then he'd drift back into the Nothingness, and it was tempting to just stay in the void where nothing hurt and nothing mattered, except if he let the darkness take him, he couldn't tell Blaine how sorry he was. He'd never get to grow old with him. He'd never see his dad again. He'd never get to yell at his brother again or remind him that he's actually not worthless.

He could hear Blaine speaking. He knew Blaine was pleading with him even though the words were still indistinguishable. He wanted to open his eyes. So, so badly. But he might as well have tried to move a mountain.

He could feel an odd weight on his chest. The gratefully familiar scent of Blaine's favorite cologne and products mixed with subtle hints of scent filled his nostrils that Kurt could only describe as Blaine. Which meant Blaine was here. Blaine was here, and Kurt had to wake up so he could tell Blaine how sorry he was for everything, to give Blaine some kind of sign that he was there and that he was okay, but he couldn't.

Then all the sudden the words were making sense. He could feel the sharp jab of the needle and this time, he could almost flinch.

Then he was thirsty. So thirsty he felt like he could drink an ocean, and he tried to open his eyes again, and all of a sudden it wasn't impossible anymore. Light assaulted his eyes and he had a throbbing headache and all he wanted to do was to crawl back into the darkness.

Someone was holding his hand, although it didn't feel like his dad's or Blaine's or Rachel's or Carole's.

"Kurt, can you hear me? You're at DuPont Hospital in Fort Wayne, Indiana," a strange voice was telling him. I'm Peggy, and I'm your nurse. If you understand me, can you blink or squeeze my hand?"

Of course Kurt could hear her. He understood her. But squeezing someone's hand or blinking? That was all he'd been trying to do since the darkness overtook him, and it had always been impossible before.

Except, maybe now, he could.

He tried again.

It took every ounce of energy he could muster to send the signals from his brain to his fingers to squeeze the hand that was holding his, and he didn't know if he could do it again, but he managed.

Then he tried opening his eyes, and was rewarded with a stab of bright light made it hard to not want to crawl back into the darkness.

"I'm paging your doctor, okay?" the nurse informed him.

Kurt closed his eyes again, and it seemed like people wouldn't leave him alone after that. A woman in a white jacket and fabulous curly red hair shined even brighter lights in his eyes, and pricked a needle in his foot and in his hand, which made him actually flinch this time, and asked him a ton of questions, which he couldn't answer not because he didn't know the answers. He knew he was Kurt Fucking Hummel and as long as it was still before the November election, Obama was still President, no matter what the Tea Party idiots thought. He knew he was there because Sebastian decided to make his life a living hell, but saying all those things? That was a different story.

She demanded answers from him, and when Kurt couldn't give her any, her mouth pinched into a frown. He wanted to answer her questions, because he wanted some answers himself, like how long he'd been there, like how he got here.

He heard Blaine frantically trying to get in on the other side of the door, but the nurse wasn't letting him.

"He's starting to come around," the nurse said calmly. "Let us do our job, then you can see him."

Blaine was helpless. All he wanted to do was get to Kurt, just like he'd wanted since Kurt disappeared, but now he was just on the other side of the door and they weren't letting him in.

"I'm gonna go call my mom and let her know what's going on," Finn informed him. "I think Burt should prob'ly be here. Are you gonna be okay alone if I go outside to let them know?"

Blaine nodded, and rocked on his heels, wishing that he could justify bursting through the door, because he didn't mind that Finn wasn't there, but just standing outside the door and waiting? That was torture.

Then the nurse poked her head through the door, and the doctor left, smiling at him like a stewardess.

"What's happening, is he okay?"

"Are you Blaine?"

He nodded, and fought the lump in his throat.

"You can go on in. He's asking for you."

That still didn't answer any of Blaine's questions, but he didn't care.

Hand shaking, he pushed open the door.

"Kurt?" the nurse jotted a few things down.

"I'm just outside if you need anything," she told Kurt as she left, but as far as Blaine was concerned, she might as well have been invisible. The only thing that mattered in that room was lying in the bed, with his eyes still closed and still frighteningly pale and unmoving. Yet somehow, there was something different. He couldn't help but believe what the doctor had said was true.

"Hey," Blaine almost-whispered, taking his hand as soon as he scooted the chair up to the bed again. "It's me. I mean, Blaine. I'm here."

And then it happened. It wasn't much, but it was there. _Kurt squeezed back_. Blaine looked from Kurt's hand to Kurt's face and back to his hand again.

"Your dad's on his way. Finn's just left to call your step-mom," Blaine rushed out.

His eyes didn't open, but started mumbling something incoherent.

"Shhhh, don't try to talk," Blaine said.

"'M'Sorry," Kurt mumbled so quietly Blaine almost missed it.

"No, Kurt," he sniffled. "No apologies. You didn't do anything to be sorry for. Oh my God, Kurt. I'm the one... "

Kurt's eyelids fluttered, and he flinched. Blaine remembered how bright it was after he woke up when he had his eye-surgery.

"Hey," Kurt finally rasped out.

He returned the greeting with a watery smile, and then let out a shaky breath. "Oh my God. I don't know what to say. I've been waiting so long to just talk to you again and to touch you and hold your hand and feel you squeeze back, and now that it's finally here, that's the best I can come up with."

"Oh. There you are," Kurt finally managed, and grinned weakly.

Blaine started to laugh, but it came out as a sob. He laid his head on Kurt's chest, and after a long effort, like it took a lot of effort, Blaine felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder.

And that was how Finn found them moments later. The fact that Kurt's hand had moved at all was Finn's only proof that what the doctor actually said was true.

Kurt was going to be okay, and even if Finn didn't really believe in God anymore since he ate the Grilled Cheesus, he still felt as though he should thank someone up there for bringing him back.


End file.
